


Tales of Overwatch

by goldenEY3



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-01-28 14:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 44,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12608232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenEY3/pseuds/goldenEY3
Summary: A small collection of Overwatch stories I had written for another site.Jack Morrison believed he'd ran out of third chances, never mind seconds. But when Ana Amari returns from the dead, he tries to follow through on a promise he made to himself years ago.Overwatch has been recalled, but the Second Omnic Crisis is already raging. Aleksandra Zaryanova is sent to bring Overwatch back into the Chrisis, but her plans run into a snag when she runs into the mysterious Mei-Ling Zhou.Amélie Lacroix was kidnapped by Talon, brainwashed into becoming Widowmaker, becoming a voice in her own head, filled with poisoned love for her husband. But they forgot to take away her second love: Lena Oxton. Amélie will use that love to sabotage Widowmaker before she fades away for good.Ana helps Fareeha ask the toughest question of her life, only to face an equally tough question in turn.





	1. Never Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally written these stories for fanfic.net.  
> But I like the AO3 options and layout a little better, so here they all are, in their interconnected glory.

**Present**

 

Overwatch hadn’t been together for more than a week and I was already being thrown into the shit.

“’It’ll be easy, Jack. Just take out a Talon shipment,’ they said,” I grumbled. Bullets flew over the wall I took cover behind, smacking into the brick wall behind me. Bits of shrapnel bounced off my jacket and armor; a few cut me. “’It’ll be easy,’ they said.”

This ‘easy’ assignment was supposed to have less than ten Talon operatives. I ran into nearly twenty. Serves me right for being the first one to jump at Winston’s recall order.

There was a lull in the gunfire. I popped out of cover, eying everything in a second. Three Talon men were in the open, reloading. Must be new to the job; they were easy. After finishing them, I had half a mag left, and I couldn’t be pinned down, so I sprinted across the street. Bullets whizzed over my shoulder. Too damn lucky.

“Dammit, Winston, couldn’t you have at given me _someone?_ ” I growled, sliding into cover behind a building. No, that wasn’t fair. Winston put out the call-to-arms only a few days ago; everyone else had lives they were going about. Not everyone was spending every waking moment trying to find out who killed Overwatch, like me.

“Yea, just the old man who can’t let things go.”

A small team of Talon men rounded the corner. A quick rocket blast took care of them. Then it was moving again. That’s the thing about being outnumbered; you could never stay still. Stand around with a thumb up your ass, you’ll get surrounded.

Running down the street made me realize just how empty this little town became. Gunfire tended to do that, but seeing it empty out in mere minutes was always a little disconcerting. But I was glad that the civilians were able to get away. Bad enough that Talon was causing trouble in the world, but I’m not sure I could live with myself if any other innocent bystander lost their life. Too many were already hurt from Overwatch being dead.

Shit, maybe I didn’t give Talon enough credit. I was barely halfway down the block when another team rounded a corner. Rockets were still reloading, so I took a quick pot shot at ‘em, just to get them to jump back into cover around the corner. Their instincts and their reactions were good; only put a few rounds downrange before they jumped back. That gave me a second.

I shot out a window and threw myself through it, just as the Talon guys opened fire en masse.

“Lucky, old man. Just got lucky.”

Dammit, I could use some help right about now.

If there was a team behind me and a team ahead of me, that meant that there had to be a team coming in from the sides. My luck held out; the rockets on my rifle were good to go.

Turns out the window I shot up was for a small corner shop; I ran through the aisles, looking for a back door leading to an alley. Finding it, I kicked it with all my might, expecting to walk into the next Talon group.

Well, I was kinda right. The door flew open, knocking one Talon guy flat on his ass; he was the middle guy in the group. I used my rockets to blast the point man and his buddy off the face of the earth, and emptied my mag into the door. When it clicked on empty, I peered around the door. Just as I suspected, the rest of the Talon assholes were cut down.

“Well, I guess luck ain’t that bad.”

Let’s see, if there were almost twenty, and I took out three teams of four, shit, I was more than halfway through ‘em. That meant two or three full teams left.

“Let’s see who’s up to the task of putting me down.”

If they were any smart, both teams would charge down the alley. I hid in the shop, waiting for the rockets to reload. Didn’t take long until I heard boots on the ground. Sure enough, two teams ran passed the door, six men in total. A target rich environment; just the way I liked it.

“I got you in my sights.”

They didn’t even stand a chance. A few of them got shots off, but they were all cut down. I turned, spitting the empty mag out, and saw one more Talon asshole at the head of the alley.

He must’ve been point man for the last group or so. Shit, I was dead to rights.

There was a crack, and he fell down like a puppet with cut strings. I recognized sniper fire when I saw it, but I thought I was the only Overwatch agent in the area.

Judging from the angle of the shot, and how the Talon asshole fell, the sniper was somewhere ahead of me; possibly in a four-story building a couple blocks down. I slapped a fresh mag in my pulse rifle and gave my mysterious guardian angel a crisp salute. It was just good manners.

“—sniper in the AO,” a radio crackled. It was coming from one of the Talon guys I gunned down. “Got a view of the muzzle flash. Target is in a four-story building, tan, say again, four story building, tan.”

Shit.

“Backup, converge on sniper, deny it to Overwatch.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

I sprinted down the alley, taking only a few seconds to make sure I wasn’t walking into an ambush. The damn guardian angel wasn’t careful enough; either that, or Talon got fucking lucky. Don’t care who’s pulling the trigger up there, I won’t let them die on account of me.

Getting old sucks. I was almost out of breath by the time I got to the tan building. Back in my day, that wouldn’t have even winded me.

I swept the street, looking for targets. I found two Talon groups entering the building. I was able to take two guys out, but the rest of them jumped into cover. A quick barrage of rockets kept their heads pinned, and I sprinted across the street, shooting out a window and jumping into the building.

They were a couple of rooms to the left of me. I slapped a fresh mag in, and carefully walked down the hallway. Two guys were in the atrium of the building, looked like a simple office place, so they were the first to die. The other team was moving up behind them; they must be the last ones.

Shit, and I only had half a mag. Rockets were still reloading, too.

I threw myself to the ground to make myself a smaller target, and let them have it. I aimed as best I could, but one guy was left standing.

I always told myself I’d never be the guy who pulls the trigger on an empty gun, but I was good at breaking promises to myself. I ended up pulling the trigger a couple of times, but the damn thing only clicked on empty. The Talon guy actually laughed; I didn’t blame him, I’d laugh to. What a fucking cliché.

He took his time bringing his weapon up. What’s the rush? It’s just an old guy trying to reload as fast as he could. He had all the time in the world.

Just when I thought he was going to finally going to end this whole farce, there was a little pop, and the Talon guy jerked. He pulled a little dart out of his neck, then hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. He was snoozing before he hit the floor. I racked the bolt on my rifle and made sure he never woke up.

Guess I owe my guardian angel another favor.

I picked myself up from the ground, dusting myself off as best I could.

“Thanks for the assist—“

I didn’t have a guardian angel; I had a ghost.

She was walking down the stairs, dressed in what looked like an old, dusty Overwatch jacket; it had seen much better days. But her armor and breastplate looked new, or at least well maintained. She didn’t have her long black hair; it must’ve went gray a long time ago. And she had a rifle draped in her arms, and her tattoo…she still had that tattoo under her left eye. She had a small sidearm in her hand, the one that shot the dart at that Talon guy.

What happened to her? God, she was still beautiful.

“Is that you, Jack?” She said, a smile on her lips. I had to look her over three or four times before I realized that she wore an eye patch over her right eye.

“Ana? Ana Amari? You…you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Good for you that I’m not,” she smiled.

A lifetime of regret hit me.


	2. Never Too Late

**A Lifetime Ago**

 

A massive assault helicopter dipped, and landed. Its sides were pocket marked with bullet holes from small arms fire, but they seemed to avoid the massive, radiant Overwatch stencil that was painted on the side. It touched down, and before any of the deck crew could attend to the bird, a massive armored figure leapt from the equally massive chopper.

“Another day, another victory!” Reinhardt Wilhelm roared, pulling off his helmet. His massive Crusader armor no longer shone like new chrome, but was dented, battered and covered in grime. It didn’t seem to damper the mood of the massive man who wore it. “The world is a safer place from the Omnic Threat!”

“Yea, and you never left any for us, big guy,” Gabriel Reyes said, following the massive German. “It ain’t no fun if you hog all the glory.”

“Cool it, Gab,” Jack Morrison said. “This was a sneak attack that bypassed all our threat assessments; we’re lucky we got there in time.”

“We are lucky that the Omnics moved too fast for their own good,” Ana Amari sighed, stepping onto the tarmac of the landing pad. She took a moment to collect her hair in a ponytail. She never noticed Jack’s gaze linger on her. “If they were any more careful, this would have been a horrible battle, with heavy civilian casualties. We are also lucky our little angel is so gifted.”

“Please, I am just here to help,” Angela Ziegler smiled. “War is such a bloody business; no one should suffer.”

“Only ones who should suffer are those damn tin cans, am I right, eh?” Gabriel roared.

“Gab, we appreciate you jumping in to round out the team, but the battle is over.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Jack, those damn tin cans somehow bypassed damn near every early-warning system we had in place,” Gabriel said, turning deadly serious. “They could have done major damage to the city. A city which had minimal defensive forces, too!”

“The loss of life would have been…terrible,” Angela said.

“Are you well, Angela?” Ana asked.

“No. This is only my third mission, ja?” The little nurse wrung her shaking hands. “I haven’t been so scared in such a long time.”

“It’ll be fine, Angela,” Jack said. “I enlisted when I was your age; I know how bad it can be. The first few battles are always the worst, but trust me, you’ll get better.”

“Yes, don’t you worry, we are all here for you,” Reinhardt boomed, making sure he patted her back instead of slapping it. “And with me as your shield, no harm will come to you!”

“Thank you,” she smiled. She was still scared, but she knew her team, her friends, were there for her. “I…I just need to grow accustomed to it, I guess.”

“You’ll get there in no time,” Jack promised. “You just need some experience. Next thing, it’ll be old hat.”

“’An old hat?’” Both Ana and Angela asked.

“Sorry, old saying from back home,” Jack said. “It means old fashioned, or an old trick. You know, something you’re used to.”

“Aah, I see,” Angela said. “Yes, it is a _new hat_ right now, don’t you think?”

“Our little girl has slang down to a science,” Gabriel laughed.

“If I may, Angela?” Ana said. “It might be good to spend time around friends after fights like this. It will help you relax, to get over the battle.”

“Yes, a good group of friends can help you unwind after big battle,” Reinhardt grinned. “And big battle makes for a big appetite! Come, to the kitchen!”

“How is it that you unwind after battle, Ana?” Angela asked.

“Mother!”

“I have my ways,” Ana smiled.

“Mother!” Fareeha ran out of the hanger, hitting Ana nearly full force. But Ana was ready, and knelt down to brace herself. “I was so scared, are you hurt?”

“Of course not, my little Fareeha. The Omnics never drew a bead on me,” she smiled. “I’m more concerned about you. A growing girl like yourself, in a military base? Were you okay?”

“I’m fine, mother,” Fareeha said. Her tone switched from worry to annoyance the way only a young teenager was capable of doing. “The soldiers here are nice. But this happened so quickly, I was so worried…”

“Do not worry, little one,” Reinhardt said. “ _No one_ will get through my shield. I will hold them all at bay, and your mother will remain safe!”

“Thank you, Mr. Reinhardt,” Fareeha said. “Can we finish our game--? Who are you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m new,” Angela smiled. It was the kind of smile that lit up a room. “My name is Angela.”

“I’m Fareeha,” she said, blushing minutely. “I didn’t know my mother worked with an angel.”

“Ha! An angel indeed!” Reinhardt laughed. “She takes care of all of us, just like your mother!”

“Do you like it?” Angela smiled. She triggered the wings of her Valkyrie suit, making them spread and shine.

“They’re beautiful,” Fareeha gaped.

“Thank you,” Angela smiled.

“Angela here is a great addition to the team,” Jack said. “Like your mother, she protects others.”

“Now, what about we finish this game that was so rudely interrupted?” Ana said. “With the Omnics defeated, we should have time now.”

“What game were you playing?” Angela asked.

“Rat slap!” Fareeha said.

“I have never heard of it.”

“It’s so much fun!” The girl smiled. “Mother, can we teach the angel how to play?”

“Oh, I couldn’t interfere,” Angela politely said.

“Nonsense, it is an easy game to learn,” Ana said. “Besides, it is a game for the young. You need to be fast at it; just don’t get offended if you get your hand slapped.”

“Come on, it’s fun!” Fareeha said.

“Well, I do like learning new games,” Angela said. “Is there anyone else who doesn’t know how to play? I would feel better if I was not the only new player.”

Jack jumped as Gabriel slyly elbowed him in the side.

“But after battle, the best thing to do is eat, get your energy back,” Reinhardt said. “And the food here is excellent.”

“I’m with big man, killing tin cans gives me an appetite,” Gabriel said.

“I…I better talk to Torbjörn,” Jack stammered. “If the Omnics slipped past our early warning systems, we’ll need to re-adjust our defense lines and planning.”

“Don’t worry, angel, I’ll go easy on you,” Fareeha grinned.

“Don’t believe her for a second,” Ana laughed. “She is devilish at the game.”

“Mother! I promise, I’ll go easy on you, Angela.”

“Thank you,” Angela laughed. “Very well, let’s see how this game is played. But if this little cutie is lying to me…”

“Come, Gabriel, I can almost smell the food from here,” Reinhardt boomed.

“Give me a minute, think I left something in the chopper.”

“Ach! Fine, I’ll save a spot for you.”

Gabriel waited a few beats as they all walked off.

“Come on, man, that was right there!” He said, turning on Jack.

“Gabe, don’t start,” he sighed. His heart was hammering in his chest. He took a few deep breaths to calm it.

“You’ve been giving that chica the eye for how long?” Gabriel continued. “That was the perfect in, man! The perfect in! You and Ana, playing cards, next to Fareeha and Angela! Perfect!”

“I heard you the first time,” Jack growled, grabbing his gear bag from the refueling helicopter.

“I’ll keep repeating myself if you don’t make a damn move,” he said. “Single moms are the best; they’re more concerned about their kids, and Ana _knows_ you’re good with Fareeha! You’ve practically raised her for what, almost ten years?”

“Since we all made Overwatch.”

“And every time I see you go for it, you choke!”

“Fareeha has memories of her father,” Jack said. “I don’t want to replace that man, neither to Ana nor to Fareeha. Especially to Fareeha. She deserves to remember the man who’s her real father.”

“Holy shit, all this self-righteousness is making me sick,” Gabriel moaned. “Fuck man, if you don’t make a move, I swear to God _I’ll_ be the one to seal the deal.”

Jack rounded on Gabriel, fury in his eyes.

“Whoa, alright—“

“Don’t you _ever_ talk about Ana like that,” Jack growled.

“Jesus man, I knew that crossed a line the second I said it.”

“Then why did you say it?” Jack pressed, dropping his bag to take a step towards Gabriel.

“I’m just trying to get you to nut up and tell the woman you got feelings for her. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

“Jesus fuck, man, I said I was sorry,” Gabriel said, this time holding his ground. “You’ve been working with her for eleven years. Eleven damn years. And you’ve practically been raising Fareeha since she was out of diapers, right? She’s thirteen now, man. Take it from me, you partially _are_ her father.”

Jack grabbed his bag and stormed off.

“Promise you’ll say something, please,” Gabriel called.

“Yea, I’ll do that,” Jack said. “I promise.”

“Don’t promise me, promise yourself!”

Jack dismissively waved Gabriel away.

_Yea, I’ll do that,_ he told himself. _Next time I see her. I promise._


	3. Never Too Late

**Present**

 

Ana sat across from me in the helicopter. It was so damn strange, seeing her again. It’s been years since that mission went to absolute hell. Fucking Talon. They cost me my team, they cost me Ana. Well, I thought I did.

“Sir, we’re coming into Gibraltar,” the pilot said. “ETA fifteen minutes.”

“Good.”

Dammit, Ana had been quiet the whole flight back. I’ve been quiet, too. Dammit, old man, speak up, say something.

“What happened to you?”

Come on, you could do better.

But Ana looked up with her one eye. She looked tired, scared even.

“I met Amélie,” she said.

“ _Widowmaker_ ,” I corrected with a growl. “Amélie is dead.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“To me she is. To a lot of us, she is.”

“Yes, she might as well be,” Ana said. “You remember that mission, no?”

“Too damn well.”

“That sniper, the one who cost us so many of our friends? _That_ was Amélie.” Ana smiled sadly. “I actually had the best shot in my career. Ricocheted a bullet off a wall to hit her. Only it hit her face mask; it didn’t kill her. I saw her, I froze. She didn’t.”

Ana pointed to her eye patch.

“The bullet punched through my scope. It’s probably what saved my life. If it hit me straight on, or didn’t tumble when it hit the scope, it would have blown my brains out. But it tumbled, and only took out my eye.”

She pulled her hood back, and then her hair. There was a brutal scar on the right side of her head, just in front of her ear.

“Hell of an exit wound.”

“Made me wish I _was_ dead. But I see you’ve got a few wounds yourself,” she smiled.

I ran my hand over my forehead. It’s an old wound, but I felt self-conscious about it.

“A parting gift from Gabe,” I said. “You heard about how Swiss HQ got blasted? Got this there.”

“I also heard you were dead.”

“Looks like we both got something in common then, huh?”

“Too much,” she agreed.

We both fell into silence. Dammit, keep talking to her.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were alive?”

“Because of Talon,” she said. “A group of civilians found me, dragged me to a doctor, saved my life. I was going to contact Overwatch, but I had a lot of time to think when I was recovering. If Talon could do that to Amélie, if they could take her and turn her into a cold-blooded murderer, they could do it to anyone. They could do it to Fareeha. I…I couldn’t let that happen. If Talon thought I was dead, if _everyone_ thought I was dead, I hoped that they would leave Fareeha alone, let her grow up.”

“She’s in Overwatch now, you know,” I said.

That got a reaction from Ana.

“She is in Overwatch?” She demanded. “But how? The call to regroup only went out a few days ago.”

“You know she was an Overwatch baby,” I said. “She had an old comm unit of yours; she couldn’t part with any of the stuff you left her. So when the call went out, she heard it. She was the third one to show up. Dropped everything and came to Gibraltar.”

“She…she always wanted to join, didn’t she?” She stammered.

“Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not,” Ana said. “I, I knew that I’d have to see Fareeha again, but not like this. Never like this. I thought I would have time; I’d be able to send word, a call maybe. I even wrote a letter to her. I don’t want to suddenly show up, tell her that I’m alive.”

“I’m sorry, but she’ll probably be waiting for me when we get back,” I said.

We both fell back into silence.

“Thank you for looking out for her all these years,” Ana said.

“It’s nothing. Really, it isn’t.”

“It is to me,” she said, smiling.

Dammit, I missed that smile. Suddenly I couldn’t think.

“W-what made you go to ground?” I stammered. “I mean, what _kept_ you playing dead all these years? There wasn’t anyone you could tip off, without letting Talon get word?”

“Well, where have you been since you ‘died?’”

Dammit, stop smiling. I can’t concentrate.

“I’ve…done some digging.”

“On?”

“Who had it in for Overwatch.”

“So for all these years, you’ve kept everyone thinking you were dead; why? What made you throw yourself into your work?”

Because I had to find out who wanted us dead and out of the way. Because there wasn’t anything left for me. Because I lost you, I lost Gab, I lost everything. Because there wasn’t anything left for me.

God dammit, old man, speak up. Tell her.

But I couldn’t. Fucking coward.

“That is why I stayed ‘dead,’” Ana said. “I did it to protect my daughter, my friends, but I also did it to avoid what I’ve lost.”

“Might want to hold onto something,” the pilot said. “Coming in for landing.”

About damn time.

The helicopter barely bounced as the wheels touched down; it was a smooth landing. I pulled the door open and jumped out. More people were showing up and Gibraltar, more former Overwatch men and women. People I’d never thought I’d see again.

And waiting for us was Fareeha. She was out of her armor. Somehow, she found an old Overwatch uniform.

“Jack,” she said. She had her mother’s smile. “Are you okay? I heard you assignment turned…”

She stopped as Ana stepped out of the helicopter. Seeing her mother alive and in the flesh obviously shocked her.

_“Fareeha,”_ Ana said, trying to smile. She had switched Arabic, not English. She taught me some, but that was years ago; I was rusty at it.

_“Mother?”_ I still remember that Arabic word. _“Is…is that you?”_

_“I. I’m sorry, Fareeha, I had to make sure you were safe—“_

She didn’t get another word out. Fareeha turned and stormed away. Part of me was glad; if they kept talking, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them.

_“Fareeha, please,”_ Ana pleaded.

It fell on deaf ears.


	4. Never Too Late

**A Lifetime Ago**

 

Despite the endless efforts of the tireless ventilation system, the training room stinks of dried sweat and mat burns. Thick mats line the entire floor and portions of the wall, with sparring dummies and handheld pads strewn about the room. Dulled, wooden training weapons lined the walls, hanging from racks. The room is empty but for two inhabitants. One is a teenage girl, the other a man.

Jack holds a thick pad against his side. Fareeha shouts, lashing out. Her shout echoes off the walls, followed closely by the dull _whump_ of her kick hitting the pad.

“Ease up,” Jack said. “You need to work on your form.”

Fareeha kicks again, ignoring him. She hits the pad even harder.

“I said ease up,” Jack says again. “Form first, power second.”

“Shut! Up!” Fareeha grunts, lashing out with all her might.

In the blink of an eye, Jack drops the pad and catches her kick. He wraps his arm around Fareeha’s leg and holds her in place.

“You keep this up, you’ll end up hurting yourself.”

“Let go of me,” Fareeha said, struggling to pull her leg free.

“You don’t take your anger out on the bag; not without hurting yourself.”

“I’ve been doing this since I was a girl! Let go.”

“Are you going to ease up and not try to hurt yourself?”

Fareeha squirms, but Jack holds her tight. Try as she might, she can’t pull her leg free.

“Fine,” she mumbles.

“Fine what?” Jack pressed.

“I won’t hurt myself,” she hissed.

Jack gave her a hard look, but let her go.

“I know your angry, but you can’t let your anger get the best of you,” he said. “You need an outlet, you go run.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Fareeha snapped.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Jack said. “I won’t have you hurting yourself when your mother is away.”

“And she’s always away, isn’t she?” Fareeha sneered. “Pretty nice for you, being able to boss me around all the time.”

“Despite what you think, I don’t like ‘bossing you around,’” Jack said. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t go around picking fights with the other kids on base.”

“He made fun of my mom,” Fareeha grumbled. “Said she was a coward for being a sniper.”

“You can’t let that get to you. If they see a reaction from you, they’ll just hound you for it.”

Fareeha ignored him.

“Look, I know this is tough. We’re all on active duty to some varying degree,” Jack said. “It’s stressful, but the world is a dangerous place; we’re trying to make it better.”

“I know that already,” Fareeha said. “But does she have to volunteer so much?”

Jack brought the pad up. Fareeha wound up, ready to hit the bag for all she was worth. Jack glared at her, and for a split second, she hesitated. Fareeha went back to kicking it; this time, she held back.

“Much better,” Jack said. “Your mother has her own problem; she’s good at what she does.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Fareeha asked, kicking the pad again.

“No, not really. Back in my Army days, before I help start Overwatch, we had a saying: ‘competency is its own punishment.’”

“Comp-e-tency?” Fareeha said, sounding the strange word out.

“That’s right; it means being good at something. I’m glad your English is getting better.”

“I have a lot of time to practice.”

“That you do,” he laughed. “If you show everyone that you’re good at something, people are gonna go to you for help with that thing. That’s why your mother is always being called away.”

“What about you?” She asked.

“Well, I’m important enough that people can’t bother me too much. My job also comes with a desk, not just a gun.”

“I wish she’d get a desk. Maybe she can stay at base for more than a week.”

“Your mother’s doing a lot of good in this world,” Jack said. “You should be proud.”

“I _am_ proud,” Fareeha said. She couldn’t keep the exhaustion from her voice. “But she’s out too much.”

Jack opens his mouth to speak, but realizes that he’s just trying to justify her mother’s absence.

“Yea, active duty is stressful,” he says eventually. “It’d be nice to have your mother around more.”

“I’m glad that you’re here, though,” Fareeha says. She steps away, taking a breather. “It’s nice to train with you.”

“I’m glad I’m not the ‘lame old guy’ you’re stuck with,” Jack laughed.

“’Lame?’”

“Yea, lame.”

“What’s ‘lame’ mean?”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me kids these days don’t use ‘lame’ anymore. Now I feel really old.”

Jack spied a tiny grin on Fareeha’s face. She tried burying it, but he had already spotted it.

“You’re the worst,” he groaned.

“I got you good,” Fareeha laughed. “Got you to check your age!”

Jack hits her with the pad, but gently. Laughing, Fareeha easily kicks it away.

“Hello there!”

Fareeha and Jack look up. Angela is at the door of the training room, peering in. She doesn’t step on the pads; she’s still wearing outdoor shoes.

“The crisis has been resolved,” she smiles. “Fareeha, your mother’s coming back. And she’s just fine.”

“Thanks, Angela!” Fareeha beamed.

“That’s great,” Jack says. “Come on, Fareeha, let’s wrap this up and go welcome her back.”

“I’ll see you in the hanger,” Angela says, smiling and waving before she closes the door.

“Why do you get to spend all the time with the pretty angel?” Fareeha says, pouting.

“She’s an important part of the team,” Jack said. “All medics are; Angela just takes it to a new level. She’s terribly committed to helping everyone. That’s her competency, and her punishment is being asked to help with every health risk under the sun. That’s why she’s here more often than not; someone always has to get patched up.”

“I can’t wait to join and work with her.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll hit enlistment age sooner than you think.”

“When I do, can I ask for help?”

“Kiddo, you got my advice any time you want it,” Jack said, wrapping an arm around her. He made a big show of taking a whiff and pinching his nose shut. “And right now, my advice is to hit the showers. You stink something awful. Can’t have your mother passing out when she gets back.”

Fareeha punched him, but Jack was ready.

_I’ll talk to Ana when she gets back,_ he thinks. _Yea, it’ll be a good time for it._


	5. Never Too Late

**Present**

 

Damn promises. You’re a fucking coward, old man. You had all that time, and you never said anything. But she’s back now; maybe now you can do something about it.

I walked through the old Gibraltar facility, looking for Angela. I was willing to bet that when Fareeha answered the call and beat a path back to Gibraltar, Angela must have been close by; they were close like that. Maybe I can ask her for some advice for an old coward like me.

Since her mother came back, Fareeha made herself real scarce, and I don’t want to go snooping around and interrupt her with whatever she’s doing. Kids need their space. Shit, after seeing the ‘dead’ come back to life, _anyone_ would need their space.

I found Angela in the old cafeteria, which is actually putting out hot food. The only thing really missing now in Reinhardt telling tall tales. It’s feeling more like home by the second.

Angela is sitting at a table, nibbling on a snack. Fortunately, she’s alone, so I don’t have to butt into anything.

“Angela.”

She looked up, and one of her radiant smiles lit up her face.

“Is that you, Jack?”

“In the flesh,” I said. “This seat taken?”

“Not in the least. Have to say, you look good for a dead man.”

“You know what they say about old soldiers,” I chuckled, sitting down. “We never die, and we don’t fade away. You seem to take my survival pretty well.”

“Please. When news of a mysterious ‘Soldier: 76’ popped up, Fareeha and I knew who it was,” she said. “Not everyone knows you as well as your old friends, which is a good thing when you’re an internationally wanted vigilante.”

“Yea, looking back, it wasn’t a very convincing disguise,” I said. “Still, it suited me.”

“Quite.”

“Speaking of coming back, have you heard about the other ghost that came back to life?”

“How could I not?” Angela said. “Ana, alive after all these years? Now _that_ is a shock.”

“To everyone,” I said. “Hey, you’re…close to Fareeha, right?”

“That’s one thing to call it,” she smiled.

“Yea. So…”   

How do you think Fareeha will take it if I finally make a move on Ana? What’s the best way to make a move this late in the game? Come on, old man, talk.

“…How’s Fareeha taking it?”

God dammit, you old coward.

“About as well as you’d think she is.”

“So not very well.”

“Jack, her mother just showed up, out of the blue,” she said. “Her mother, who she thought was dead for over a decade. How would you feel if your parents faked their death and came home one day? She feels betrayed, lied to, mislead. Anyone who had even a shred of compassion would feel the same way.”

“Yea, figured it was a dumb question,” I said. “Do…do you think she needs time alone? Shit, this is a pretty big thing to drop on anyone. Must be another dumb question; she’ll need her space to come to terms with this.”

“Please, there’s no such thing as a dumb question,” she smiled. “I know you’ve always been close to Fareeha. You’re worried about her just as I am. And while there are times that Fareeha needs her space, I think this is not one of those times. She could really use someone to talk to.”

“I don’t want to interrupt anything she’s doing.”

“Jack, please, you’re like a father to her.”

“She already has a father. I don’t want to ruin her memory of him.”

“Oh, for the love of God, will you knock off all that stoic brooding bullshit?” Angela snapped.

Shit. That made me to jump.

“If there’s one thing about you that drives everyone crazy, it’s that,” Angela said. She had some fire in her eyes. “You care about Fareeha. I know it, you know it, she knows it, everyone knows it! You’ve been with her since she was a little girl, and right now, she needs that. She doesn’t need me, she needs you to talk to. So stop trying to act like you and you alone have to bear the weight of the world. Knock that shit off and go talk to Fareeha.”

She glared at me for a good ten seconds. Damned if I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“What happened to the Mercy we all knew?”

“Oh, she’s here,” Angela said. “Sometimes people need mercy, sometimes they need a good slap in the face.”

“Well, slap delivered.”

“Good,” she said, all smiles again. “This is something that would destroy a relationship between a mother and daughter. It would destroy _any_ relationship. Ana wants to be with her daughter; any mother would. And I know that Fareeha can’t go on hating her mother any longer than this. So go help her, so she can enjoy having her mother back.”

“Thanks, doc. Can’t guarantee anything, but hopefully it’ll be one big, happy family soon.”

“Thank you, Jack,” she said. “I can’t stand seeing Fareeha angry like this. This kind of anger will only hurt her. That’s a pain I can’t stand to see her in, and it’s something that I can’t mend by myself.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” I said. “Where’s she at?”

“She said she would be at the firing range, blowing off steam.”

“Thanks again, doc.”

“You’re welcome. You can help her more than you realize, Jack.”

I left the cafeteria, and I couldn’t help but kick myself.

It was right there, old man. You could have asked her. It’s not like she was Ana; you just needed some help and advice. Fucking coward. Well, I’ve had years of practice in breaking promises. 

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” I mumbled to myself as I made my way to the shooting range.


	6. Never Too Late

**A Lifetime Ago**

 

Fareeha stood ram-rod straight, fighting the urge to break down and cry. Jack stood next to her, his uniform crisp and his salute perfect; he was only betrayed by his pained, thousand-yard stare. Towering over them was Reinhardt, who made no effort to hide his tears. Behind them was nearly the entire Overwatch organization.

The stone marble statue of Ana was the size of Reinhardt, and lovingly rendered. It stood over a grave for Fareeha’s mother, but in truth, it was an empty tomb. There was no body that was recovered from the warzone.

To their right, a command was barked out, and a line of seven riflemen snapped to attention, shouldering their rifles. Moving as one to the orders, they loaded the blank rounds, aimed, and fired. The first volley made Fareeha yelp and jump. The second volley merely made her flinch. For the third and final retort, she stood perfectly still, just like Jack.

With the three-volley salute finished, the rifle men and women brought their guns down to their side, and a bugler stepped forward, and began playing a mournful ‘Taps.’ The sound echoing throughout the graveyard, bouncing off the rows and rows of headstones, sepulchers and mausoleums. Reinhardt is able to hold back a sob until the bugler finishes, but seems to make up for it once it finishes. Just hearing his chocked-back cry makes Fareeha’s passive face nearly break.

The ceremony over, Reinhardt is the first to excuse himself. Others follow, but Jack stays with Fareeha. Angela walks over to Fareeha, giving her a reassuring hug.

“I’ll be here whenever you need me, _Mutiger,_ ” she promised.

“Thank you.”

Well-wishers lined up, giving their support to the young woman. Jack remained by her, staring straight ahead, utterly impassive.

_You_ fucking _coward,_ he thought. _You should have said something. Anything. But you didn’t, damn you._

Fareeha stood, accepting the condolences from the long line of friends and Overwatch family. It took a long time, but the last well-wisher finally departed, leaving Fareeha and Jack alone. She dried the few errant tears that were on her face.

“You keep holding all that in, you’ll end up like me,” Jack warned.

“I want to be like you.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“You’re strong,” Fareeha said. “You don’t let anything get to you.”

_I’m a scared little man who couldn’t even tell the woman I loved just how much I loved her._

“You have to know when it’s okay to let things out,” Jack said. “If you don’t show any emotions, it’ll end up destroying your soul.”

Fareeha said nothing. She stared at the statue of her mother, trying not to cry.

“Fareeha, please,” Jack said. “Prove to me you can still be human.”

“With what?”

“With showing me that you can still feel,” he said. “You’re doing the same thing Gabe is doing. Shit, it’s the same thing _I’m_ doing. You’re holding things so deep that they burn you. You can’t let that happen. You have to be better than that; better than me.”

He sighed.

“I know you and your mother never saw eye-to-eye. She was always away, and you resented her for it…but you have to know that Ana loved you very much. She cared for you; shit, she still cares for you, wherever she is now.

“I was on active duty when my father passed; I couldn’t get home is time for the funeral. And I _hated_ myself for not being there for my dad. When I did get back, my mother told me that I couldn’t dwell on the past, on things that were done and not done. I had to move on, honor his memory, and not get stuck living in ‘what-ifs’ and ‘I should haves.’ That’s no way to live.”

_That’s right, you bastard. You made this bed, and now you get to sleep in it. You fucking coward._

“Please, don’t hold this in. Don’t let it burn you. Honor her, and don’t let her memory drag you down.”

Fareeha’s façade cracked. Then the tears came. She collapsed, and Jack knelt by her. He held her until she was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Mutiger ≈ ‘brave one’ in German.


	7. Never Too Late

**Present**

 

True to Angela’s word, Fareeha was in the firing range, blowing up training bots with a damn rocket launcher. Well, if there was any way to let off some steam, it would be with some heavy ordinance.

I grabbed a pair of throwaway ear protection and opened the door to the range. A training bot took off, and Fareeha blew it away.

“Damn nice shot,” I said.

She flinched, but only a little. It wasn’t even a flinch; it was her almost swinging that damn rocket launcher around and blowing me away. They were good, strong reactions; a true soldier’s reactions.

“Jack,” she said, cracking the launcher open to reload it. “Are you here to tell me that having my mother back is a miracle?”

“It is, but I’m not here about that.”

“Then you’re here to tell me I should be glad that she’s alive?”

“You should be, but that’s still not it.”

She set the launcher down and turned to me.

“Then you want me to _talk_ to her?”

“She’s your mother, Fareeha. Back from the damn dead.”

“So I’m just supposed to forgive her?” She demanded. “She pretended to be dead. She left me when I was still a girl, and I’m supposed to forgive her?”

“I don’t remember saying that,” I said. “Shit, you can’t just up and ‘forgive’ that, but you still need to talk to her. She still loves you, Fareeha. You need to know that.”

“I know that she abandoned me. The question is for what.”

“For your safety.”

Fareeha snorted.

“Yea, it’s a lame line, I know,” I mumbled.

“For my damn ‘safety,’” she spat. “I’m an Overwatch baby. I was practically born on base. I was perfectly safe with them.”

“And that didn’t do a lick of good for Amélie now, did it?” That got Fareeha to pause. “You remember Amélie, don’t you? Her name ring a bell? Or would you know her as Widowmaker?”

“I know who she is,” Fareeha said. “How could I forget something like that?”

“Then you know why Ana was scared for you. If Talon didn’t get to her then, they might have gotten her later by using you, just like how they did it with Amélie. Doesn’t mean what she did was right; far from it. But you got to know that she still loved and cared for you.”

Fareeha set down the extra rockets. She must have thoughts blowing through her mind at a hundred miles an hour.

“You’re pissed, and you got every right to be pissed. But you have to know when it’s okay to let things out.”

I expected her to do or say a couple dozen things. But I didn’t expect her to chuckle. 

“I remember you telling me that,” she laughed.

“Oh?”

“Yes, when I was still a girl. I remember that, because it’s what got me to talk to Angela.”

“You could talk to her any time you wanted.”

“No, to _talk_ to her,” she said. “As more than a friend.”

“Oh.”

“God, I was nervous,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to just let it go, to keep watching her from a distance. But there you were, in the back of my mind, telling me when I had to let things out. So I talked to her, how beautiful she was, how I felt, how she made me feel. And when she said she felt the same way…”

She shook her head, pushing the rockets away. I’ve seen her as an adult, physically, but now I actually saw her as a woman grown. She was better than me. She was finally better than me.

“I’m glad you found the guts to do that,” I said. “That means you grew up to be better than me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just an old man; an old coward who missed his mark too many years ago.”

“You? A coward?” Fareeha laughed. Dammit, not this shit again. I knew what was coming, and it _still_ drove me nuts. “Jack, please, you’re one of the most heroic men I’ve ever met.”

I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t get pissed when people praised me for doing what had to be done. But I was good at breaking promises to myself.

“I didn’t do anything special,” I growled.

“You’re one of the founders of Overwatch. That’s plenty special.”

“Anyone else would have done the same thing in the same situation. Why does everyone want to heap all this praise on me and paint me as some big damn hero?”

“Because you _are_ a hero. How can you call yourself a coward?”

“I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times; there’s no praise for doing what needed to be done.” Dammit, all that shit is really driving me nuts.

“You helped beat back the Omnic threat!”

“Anyone else would have done it!”

“It was practically the world against Overwatch! They’re still making movies about you!”

Damn this praise!

“If I was such a hero, I would’ve found the guts to tell your mother how I felt about her years ago,” I snapped.

Holy shit. I never thought I’d…that caught me by surprise, more so than Fareeha. She stared at me, and I still couldn’t believe I just fucking said that. Felt like I was burning up. I never thought I’d be telling this to Fareeha.

“You, you really mean…?”

“Y-yea, I do,” I stammered. “Seeing her alive made me think of all the little promises I made to myself. All the ones I broke. When we buried her, I thought that was it, I blew every single damn chance I ever had. But seeing her alive…Oh, who am I kidding? I’m way too late to the game with this.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I told you, I’m a coward. Never got the nerve,” I mumbled. “And I didn’t want to ruin the memory of your father. It always felt like I was stepping on him in some way, that you or Ana had their own image of him that I couldn’t measure up to.”

“Jack.”

“What?”

She motioned me to follow her. She walked to a locker, one that had an actual lock on it.

“You make yourself at home already?”

“Please, I’m an Overwatch baby,” she smiled. “I grew up around here, remember?”

Fareeha opened the locker. Inside was a thin jacket, a small bag, and an assortment of knick-knacks. She really was at home already.

Then I saw the faded old picture she had hanging on the door. It was a kid’s doodle, something a five-year-old might make. It had three people: a man, a woman, and a kid. The kid and the woman were drawn in brown crayon. Well, more scrawled out. It was a kid’s drawing, after all.

Under them, scrawled out in broken, five-year-old handwriting were three names. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it; my written Arabic was even worse than my spoken Arabic. Even if I was still up on it, I’m not sure I could read a five-year’s-old writing.

But I didn’t need to read the names. The man stood out; unlike the woman and the girl, the man was drawn in something that looked like peach, and he had blonde hair.

Son of a bitch, that was me.

“You always said I should remember my father,” Fareeha said. I jumped as she hugged me. “I remember him just fine.”

Son of a goddamn bitch.

“You…you still need to talk to your mom,” I mumbled.

“I’m still angry at her,” she said. Just hearing about her mom made her squeeze, like it was reflexive anger.

“You deserve to be. We all thought she was dead. Shit, you thought _I_ was dead. You should be pissed at me, too.”

“Please, I knew you were never dead,” she laughed.

“I was in a massive fucking explosion.”

“And they never found you. I never believed you were dead; I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe my dad would die, just like that.” Dammit, stop calling me that. I’ll break up if you keep calling me that. “And when news reports of a mysterious ‘Solder: 76’ started popping up, I just knew it was you. I knew it was my dad.”

“Jesus, you and Angela would make great detectives. So will you talk to your mother?”

“Only if you tell her what you told me.”

“Damn, kid.”

“Well?”

“Fine, but it’s way too damn late for me.”

“Mother always said it’s never too late for anything.”

“Maybe.”

Fareeha let me go. I felt a little better knowing my eyes weren’t the only ones not dry.

“I…I want Angela with me,” she said. “I’m not sure I can do it alone.”

“I don’t think anyone could go through this alone.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in the second-floor common room.”

“I’ll go get your mother.” Come on, old man. Get it together. “Don’t forget to dog those rockets. Can’t leave live ordinance out in the open.”

“Yes, _dad_.”

Shit. Come on, old man, hold it together. I wiped my eyes, ditched the ear protection and left the range. When we first came back, I set Ana up in one of the armories. I double-timed it through the base, and sure enough, she was still in the armory, cleaning her rifle.

No, cleaning was the wrong word. She had the rifle disassembled like she was cleaning it, but she was playing with some of the parts. She was just waiting for something to happen, just killing time.

“Ana.”

She placed the component down and looked up at me. God dammit, she was still so beautiful.

“Has Fareeha sent you?”

“Y-yea, she wants to talk to you.”

“That’s good,” she said. “I was worried I’d be out in the cold for a much longer time.”

“You’re not out of the woods yet. I had to talk with her, but she agreed to talk to you.”

“You always had a way with her,” she smiled, standing up. “She cares a lot for you.”

“I know.”

Come on, old man. Say something. You told Fareeha, you told your daughter, you can tell Ana. Fucking coward.

“Yes?” Ana said. Dammit, she was so close to me. Come on, find your nerve.

“I…I need to come clean.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve…”

Fucking coward.

“When you died, it killed me. I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Ana’s remaining eye opened at that.

“I’m just an old coward who never grew the nerve to say anything.”

Ana’s laugh made me jump.

“What’s so funny?” I snapped.

“It’s…it’s just that…back then, being ‘dead’ and having gone to ground, it made me realize many things,” Ana said, still laughing. “I missed Fareeha. I missed her like you would not believe. But as time wore on, I realized I was missing something else. I was missing my daughter, and I was missing you.”

My heart caught in my throat.

“Seeing you with Fareeha, as she was growing up, it gave me hope for her. Hope that she would have a father again.” She shook her head. “But I was too focused on raising her, on building Overwatch, our team, our friends. I was too focused on all the people we were sworn to protect…I was so focused on what I had, what needed to be protected, that I missed what I could have had.”

“You mean…?”

“I’ve felt the same way about you, Jack,” she smiled. “I wanted to tell you, when you had time to… _adjust_ to me being alive. It’s not something that can be dropped on anyone all at once, not after a person comes back from the dead. But when you told me that Fareeha was here…what was that saying of yours? It ‘threw a wrench in everything.’ What I wanted, what I was planning for, it all changed.”

“You feel the same way about me?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Yes,” she smiled. God dammit, was that not the most beautiful thing ever. She walked over to me and grabbed my hands. “Can an old coward forgive a blind old lady for missing what she should have seen all those years ago?”

“I don’t think I could blame you for anything.”

 It took me by surprise when she hugged me. I never planned, never imagined, getting to this point, to actually tell her how I feel. I held onto her like my life depended on it.

“I’m glad one of us finally came clean,” she said.

“I wish one of us knew what to do,” I said. “We’re too damn late with this to make any difference.”

“It’s never too late. I tell Fareeha that all the time. And who cares about plans? We’re too old for it. We’ll just make it up as we go.”

“Now _that_ I’m good at.”

I never wanted to let her go, but if she didn’t get to Fareeha, she might never get her piece in.

“Come on, let’s get to our daughter.”

We walked through the base, hand in hand. It felt like I was on top of the fucking world; nothing could touch me. It was like I was on fire. Bring it on, Talon. I’ll break you in half without even trying.

Sure enough, Fareeha was waiting in the second-floor common area, sitting on a seat overlooking the Mediterranean. Angela was with her, to make sure she said her bit. With people still pouring into Overwatch, we had the place to ourselves.

“Mother,” Fareeha said, getting up.

“Fareeha,” Ana smiled. “Angela? It is great to see you. I’d love to talk, but there are a few things that I want to talk to my daughter about in private. Can we talk later?”

“I’m here with Fareeha,” she said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Mother, there’s something you should know about us,” Fareeha said, taking Angela’s hand. It made Ana pause for a second.

“You…you are…together?”

“We are,” Fareeha said.

“You’ve know her since she was a girl,” Ana said, staring daggers at Angela.

“We were both girls then,” she said. “We are only five years apart.”

“Mother, please, she makes me happy.”

Ana glared at the both of them, then turned on me.

“What?” I asked.

“You cannot approve of this. Fareeha was a child when she met Angela!”

Aw, crap.

“Well…they _are_ happy together,” I said lamely.

Ana went back to glaring at Angela. But she saw the way they were holding hands, and her expression softened a little.

“If she makes you happy…then I am happy for you,” she said to Fareeha. “But Angela? That. Is. My. Daughter. And after my daughter and I have words, I will have a few words with you. You better not cry for mercy, for you’ll get none from me.”

“That’s okay,” Angela said, flashing her radiant smile. “Your daughter cries for Mercy every night.”

Oh damn.

I didn’t know who was more red: Fareeha from blushing, or Ana from cursing. I held her back as she went into a full Arabic tilt. She was talking faster than I could make out. No, wait, she said ‘cradle’ and ‘thief;’ I know exactly what she’s going on about.

“Ana, please,” I said. “At least they had the courage to be honest with each other. They didn’t have to wait a few decades like we did.”

That got her to stop. But she was still glaring death at Angela with her one remaining eye.

“We will have a lot to talk about,” she said tensely.

“I bet we will,” Angela replied, all smiles.

“But first, I want to talk to my daughter. About why I left her. Why I abandoned her.”

“Y-yes,” Fareeha said, still blushing like she would burn up.

Ana squeezed my hand. It would be hard, but she had me. I’d keep her strong. I squeezed back as she started talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the “Your daughter cries for Mercy” line goes to [Yeh](http://leominimus.tumblr.com/post/146583967590/what-i-want-if-sombra-ends-up-being-pharahs-mom). Too good to not steal.


	8. The Soldier Who Came in from the Cold

Papers were shuffled, pens readied, and recording queued up. The room was filled with people, but only three of them truly mattered.

“Gentlemen, are we ready?” the President of Russia asked. Flanking him was a team of aides who kept him stocked with reports, and sat ready to take detailed notes, leaving his hands free.

“Yes, Mr. President,” the General of the Russian Defense Force said. Like the President, he had a team of aides. Unlike the President, however, he preferred to take his own notes. He had a pad of paper at the ready, already taking shorthand notes.

“Yes, Mr. President,” the Admiral of the Russian Navy said. He sat with a pad of paper as well, but let his aides take all the notes for him.

“Then let us begin,” the President said. “Overwatch.”

A holographic projector spun to life, showing a massive, glasses wearing gorilla.

“This…thing goes by the name Winston,” the President said. “Earlier this week, he broke international law, and put out a recall to Overwatch agents around the globe. Our men and women in the FSB tell us that they have already began amassing a large amount of personnel and material.

“This flies in the face of the Petras Act. Just by assembling under the name of ‘Overwatch,’ they are at risk of being arrested and detained for the rest of their lives. The questions I have is this: why now? Why have they decide to commit international treason, how many people do they have, and what do they plan to do with their…vigilante force?”

“They’re a little late to the party, aren’t they?” the General of the Russian Defense Force said with a snort. “They’re missing out on the Second Omnic Crisis.”

“Da, too late,” the Admiral of the Navies said. “The Crisis is in full swing. Siberia is burning yet again, and Russia is bleeding.”

“That is why I want to know why they have waited until this point to recall their forces,” the President said. “What have they gained by letting Russia bear the brunt of the Omnic Crisis? What do they stand to gain?”

“What has the KGB found?” The General said.

“They prefer to be called the ‘FSB’ now.”

“My apologies; old habits die hard,” the General said. “What have they found?”

“Nothing, as of yet,” the President said. No aid had to give him the files to report that. The President’s close connection to his old KGB/ FSB unit was an open secret. They reported directly to him. “The ones who have answered the call to arms are old members of Overwatch. Men and women who have stared down the world while it screamed for their blood. The FSB cannot simply insert agents into them; yet. We are forced to wait for them to accept new blood so we can begin sending agents to their forces.”

“And how long will that be?” the General asked. “Russia has already lost fifteen-thousand daughters and sons, and will lose only more as the Crisis continues. We cannot afford to wait for them.”

“Perhaps their consciousness got the better of them,” the Admiral said. “Overwatch was formed to combat the First Omnic Crisis; perhaps hearing about the Second Crisis was enough to make them remember their glory days and risk the threat of the Petras Act to return to duty.”

“That is what we are hoping for,” the President said. “But from what our FSB agents have told us, they have launched a few select missions, but not against the Omnics.”

“Not against the Omnics?” the Admiral said. “Who could be a bigger threat than the Omnics? Who draws their hate more than the tin cans?”

“From what we can tell, a group called ‘Talon.’”

“And who is this ‘Talon?’”

“Apparently they believe themselves to be the successor of rogue Blackwatch agents,” the President said. “At least, that’s what the Talon agent we captured said.”

“You have captured one of their members?”

“The mysterious Soldier:76 was on assignment a few days ago, and we were able to grab one,” the President smiled.

“Where is he now?” the General said.

“Sadly, he expired from wounds he took from the battle,” the President sighed.

“Wounds he got from our soldiers, or Soldier:76?”

“Does it matter?”

The General dramatically, theatrically, stroked his beard.

“No. No, it does not. What else was he able to tell us?”

“Not much. He was just a rank and file soldier, a true grunt who knew little of the grand plan, only his part in it.”

“A good soldier.”

“Da, a good soldier. He was buried with full honors.”

“I think we’re getting off track,” the Admiral said. “Overwatch has returned, but they are fighting human mercenaries? What happened to their legendary hatred for the Omnics? Why have they not come to our aide? We are suffering worse than any other country on the planet.”

“Which is why I want to know what their plan is,” the President said. “This is why we are here.”

No one spoke, but they realized that if the FSB, and by extension the President, were unable to make much headway, a new tactic must be found.

“Before we delve too deep into the credibility of this new Overwatch,” the General said, “I think we need to make a statement.”

“And what statement would that be?” the Admiral asked.

“By assembling their forces, they are willingly breaking the Petras Act and risk immediate persecution,” he said. “I am surprised they have not been forcibly shut down already.”

“Your point?” the President asked.

“It was the United Nations that formed Overwatch,” he said. He had a plan, and was greatly relishing his chance to explain it. “And it was by their pen stroke that Overwatch was disbanded. But what is the UN? A collection of nations that have decided to work together.

“Gentlemen, we need Overwatch and her soldiers alive and well. We need them to return to their roots as Omnic slayers, the bringers of mechanical death. We cannot have them forcibly shut down and arrested by countries whom have grown soft, fat, and lazy since the last Crisis.

“We keep Overwatch alive by withdrawing our support from the Petras Act. And with their future guaranteed by us, they will fight with us.”

The room was quiet as everyone digested what the General said. The President was especially quiet; he held on to his perfect poker face.

“Russia _is_ a permanent member of the UN Security Council,” he said. “We do hold considerable sway with the council, and many other nations.”

“My point exactly, Mr. President. If the UN and the world at large wish to kill Overwatch, they will have to do so without our blessings, and without the blessings of our allies.”

“This will also create a haven for them, should the international community decides to act despite us,” the President said, realization dawning on him. “If Overwatch were to move to Russian soil, no one would dare send their forces across our borders to arrest them. Yes, I like this idea.”

“And when they see what they are missing, they will join us to fight the Omnics once more,” the Admiral said.

“My point exactly,” the General smiled.

“I will announce our decision to withdraw support from the Petras Act tomorrow,” the President said. “But we still need to find out what they are doing, fighting this ‘Talon’ and not their Omnic enemies.”

“That leads to my second idea,” the General smiled. “We give them a man.”

“Just give one to them? Have them accept one of ours, just like that?”

“As a blessing to them, and to give them a show of our support,” the General said. “We can only send one, lest we spook them into believing we are trying to sabotage them. But once that soldier is a part of Overwatch, once they are trusted as a true member, they will begin to bring them into the Second Omnic Crisis. We give them a soldier to bolster their ranks, and they give us an ear to whisper into, to make them remember their former glory and duty to the world.”

“It sounds like you have been planning on this.”

“I have a few ideas I was thinking about, Mr. President,” the General said, a twinkle in his eye. “This was the best one I could come up with on such short notice.”

“And I dare to assume you have your soldier picked out?”

“That I do. Zaryanova, at attention.”

Hearing my name, I stood, took a step forward, and snapped to attention.

“Sir, Aleksandra Zaryanova, reporting for duty,” I said, keeping my salute perfect.

“At ease, soldier,” the President said. I folded my arms behind my back, but stayed in perfect form. “You were awfully quiet back there.”

“Sir, I had nothing meaningful to add, sir.”

“What do you think of this plan?”

“Sir, I think the General is quite shrewd and wise. Overwatch is needed, and they are needed on the front, sir.”

“How did the General find you? Did you volunteer, or were you chosen?”

“Sir, both. The General was pleased with my skills as a soldier, and having grown up through the First Crisis, I idolized Overwatch. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Go ahead.”

“Sir, this soldier would love the chance to meet her heroes, sir.”

“You know you’ll be away from the fight.”

I told myself I wouldn’t hesitate. I promised myself I wouldn’t blink. But I ended up doing both.

“Sir, this soldier is aware, sir.”

“Then you have a great task presented to you, Zaryanova. You will join Overwatch, and you must steer them into rejoining the Omnic Crisis. The Motherland is depending on you.”

“Sir, I will neither let you, nor the Motherland, down,” I said, saluting. “Point me in the right direction, sir.”


	9. The Soldier Who Came in from the Cold

My first day away from the front. It was strange to get a full night’s sleep. No alarms woke me, no men and women screamed for backup to repulse an attack, nothing.

I used to not be able to sleep on planes, but after spending so much time at the front, I found myself suddenly able to knock out anywhere without any trouble. The only thing that woke me was the plane banking as it came in for a landing. It felt strange being the only passenger on this massive cargo plane.

“Don’t mean to bother you, but we’re coming in for a landing,” the pilot called from the cockpit.

“Not a problem,” I said. “Just be sure to get back to Siberia as quick as you can.”

“Once we gas up, it’s wheels up, don’t you worry.”

“And kill an Omnic for me,” I said.

“We will kill five for you,” the pilot laughed. The plane bounced as it landed, and it quickly came to a stop. The cargo doors were quick to open; the pilots were used to landing under fire, where speed was everything. You landed quick, you jumped out quick, you took off quick. I unclipped my bags and quickly checked my particle cannon before picking it all up and stepping off the plane.

The sun was bright, and not just because we were closer to the equator. There wasn’t any dust or debris in the air, no signs of battle or of war. Being away from the front felt strange. I knew that out there, the Omnics were getting stronger, and I was here, getting weaker.

That all faded when I saw the men and women standing in front of me.

I couldn’t believe it. I was meeting more than my heroes, I was meeting _legends_. And I would be working with them!

Four people were walking onto the tarmac. Two were women about my age; one looked Middle Eastern, the other obviously European. They walked with an old, gray woman, and an old man with scars on his face was leading them. It took me a second to realize it was Jack Morrison, back from the dead.

“Sir.” I dropped my bags, but gently set my cannon down. I also made sure I was speaking English. “Are…are you Commander Jack Morrison?”

“Not so sure I’m a Commander now, but that’s me,” he said.

Unbelievable. Jack Morrison, in the flesh.

“I didn’t know you were alive, sir.”

“I’ve been getting that a lot,” he grinned.

“Is that another dead woman there?” I asked, looking at the old woman to his side. Her hair was completely gray, and she wore an eye patch over her right eye. “Begging your pardon, but you resemble Ana Amari.”

“That’s because I am,” the woman smiled. “You’ll be working with a lot of ghosts here.”

“Ma’am, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“At ease, soldier. You’re not on parade duty, you can relax,” Morrison said.

“Thank you, sir. I…I can’t believe I’m seeing such legends here.”

“Better get used to it, you’re our big gift from the Russian Defense Force.”

“Yes sir. Aleksandra Zaryanova, reporting for duty.”

“Zaryanova, you say?”

“You can call me Zarya, sir. Everyone does.”

“Then it’s an honor to meet you, Zarya,” Morrison said. He offered his hand, and I shook it. This was the man who built Overwatch from the ground up, who saved the world. “We already told your commander over the radio, but we’re beyond grateful for Russia’s decision to withdraw their support from the Pertas Act. That saved our ass right there. The politicians in the UN will be arguing what to do with us for at least a year.”

“It is the Russian belief that the world still needs heroes, sir.”

“My, do they have that right,” the European woman laughed. I blinked; she looked familiar.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a halo?” I asked.

“Normally I do,” Angela Ziegler laughed. “But we were in the middle of cleaning. My halo could wait.”

“It’s an honor to meet all of you,” I said. I turned to the Middle Eastern woman. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize you.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t a member of Overwatch,” the Middle Eastern woman said. “Not officially, anyways. I am Fareeha Amari.”

“Amari? Are you…is that your mother?”

“She is,” Fareeha said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Let’s get you inside so we can brief you,” Morrison said.

“Here, let me take your bags,” Fareeha said.

“It is fine, they are heavy,” I said. I was already picking them up, but she offered a hand.

“You just got here, and had a long flight. Please, let me lend you a hand.”

“I am not joking when I said they are heavy.”

“Does it look like I’m a pushover?” Fareeha laughed. She was in good shape; excellent shape, even. But I still didn’t think she could carry all of my gear.

Still, she still kept a hand out. Might as well let her see what she would get herself into.

“Alright,” I said with a shrug. I handed her one bag, and she nearly fell over.

“Fuck! What do you have in here?” The weight nearly pulled her over.

“All of my combat gear,” I said. “It tends to get a little heavy.”

“Careful, Fareeha, you know she was a champion bodybuilder,” Angela laughed. “’Heavy’ for her means ‘impossible’ for us.”

“I can see that,” Fareeha groaned.

“Don’t lift with your back, lift with your legs,” Angela said.

“Da, your posture is all wrong.”

“If you know how to lift this, maybe you can take one,” Fareeha said to Angela.

“Please, I’ve done my fair share of lifting. I’ve carried this team more times than I can count.”

Than nearly made me drop my cannon.

“Ha ha! Mercy is not too merciful, is she?” I laughed.

“If only you knew the half of it,” Morrison roared.

“Here, take it,” Fareeha groaned, meagerly holding the bag out. I grabbed it and threw it over my shoulder. The weight was reassuring.

“Come on, let’s get you inside and situated,” Jack said.

I took one last look at the plane as we headed inside. Crews were already moving to fill the plane up.

_My home was destroyed. A massive explosion had turned the garden into a crater, the house into scrap. Only the farthest wall remained. It swayed in the wind, threatening to tip over. Smoke and dust filled the air, and the sharp smell of fire was everywhere._

They were going back to the fight. Back to beat the Omnics back. They would be getting stronger while I would be getting weaker.

No. Get a grip. Control yourself. You have your orders: pull Overwatch back into the Omnic Crisis. That won’t be done today, or even a week from now. The General said it would be a long game, but a worthy one. Russia must never fall.

“Sorry for the dust, but we’re just getting back on our feet,” Morrison said as he led us in. “Winston is working up a storm to get everything spic and span, and we’re all there with him.”

“I am used to a little dust,” I said. It meant more maintenance on my cannon, but I liked working with it.

“We’ll give you a quick tour and get you set up with your quarters.”

“Jack? Is that you?”

From ahead of us, a woman was walking towards us. She  was…no, you have to watch yourself. There can never be a slip up.

She was Chinese, with brown hair done up in a bun and long bangs. She had a big puffy winter coat on, but it was unzipped and open, with a simple Overwatch t-shirt on under it She…Watch your thoughts! You have to be careful. Someone is _always_ watching.

She looked young, about my age.

“That can’t be,” Ana said. “Mei? Is that you?”

“In the flesh!” The strange woman said with a great big smile.

“Mei!” Angela ran over to wrap her in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Answering the recall order.”

“What do you mean? After your ordeal, you should be resting.”

“That’s what the other doctors said,” Mei said. She…careful! I have to hide this part of me.

She looked perfectly fine; why would she need to be kept to the sidelines?

“But they also said that I needed to find ways to keep me busy,” Mei said. “This always kept me busy, and I could really use this now.”

“If you say so,” Angela said. “But I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you show any signs of sickness…”

“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry.” Mei sure liked to smile. I had to keep my eyes on Ana, who was walking up to her.

“It is good to see an old friend,” Angela said, giving her a hug.

“I’m glad that you’re still with us,” Mei said. “I’ve missed so much.”

“None of that now, dear, you’re back among friends.”

“Good to see you back, Mei,” Morrison said. How could she know these people? She couldn’t be older than thirty! “Come on in, Zarya. We’ll show you around.”


	10. The Soldier Who Came in from the Cold

Morrison was right; the watch point was very dusty. But there were men and woman working tirelessly to restore it to its former glory. It hardly seemed run down, just…neglected. Such was the power of the Petras Act. It is good that we had put an end to that, at least for the time.

“Winston, look who showed up!” Morrison called out.

From the rafters of the massive gate, a large gorilla swung down. It was strange seeing a fabled super-intelligent ape, but Winston’s  reputation had long ago prepared me to meet him.

“I saw,” Winston said, dropping to the ground. “I was surprised that you were cleared of your ordeal, Mei.”

“That is what everyone says. I just need to find something to keep me busy,” she said. Just who was this woman? “And I wanted to see if all my old friends were still here.”

“Oh, we are all here, little one!”

“Reinhardt!”

I fought the urge to drop my bags and salute again. Morrison said that we were not on parade duty. Still, I found it hard to resist it.

Reinhardt Wilhelm was truly massive, even out of his armor. He towered over all of us. It was a long time since I felt this small.

But with his massive smile, it was hard to feel intimidated by him. He had such a big, warm smile, just like Mei’s. Morrison might have been a living legend, but Reinhardt was the very picture of a big hero.

“Do not think I would pass the opportunity to join Overwatch again!” He roared, kneeling down to practically scoop Mei up.

“I’m surprised you’re still running around!”

“He never stopped running around,” Fareeha said.

“Ja, very true! I am not built for retirement.” He set Mei down and turned to look at me. “Have we got a new recruit?”

“Sir, Aleksandra Zaryanova,” I said, standing tall. “You can call me Zarya.”

“Oh, you’re the Ruskie they sent us,” he laughed. “Many thanks for de-fanging the Petras Act. Maybe now we can get back to work and do some good in this world!”

“I would be honored to fight alongside you.” I looked at his pure silver hair. I couldn’t help but smile. “Or in front of you, if you can’t keep up, old man.”

Reinhardt and Angela broke into loud laughter.

“Ha! I am _more_ than able to keep up,” Reinhardt laughed.

“Please, Reinhardt, you had to take retirement,” Fareeha said, but she was smiling too. “You might need a walker to stay in form.”

“Ach! You wound me so, little Fareeha,” he gaped. “Zarya is more than welcome to our ranks. The more, the merrier! This will be just like old times!”

“Hopefully without a Blackwatch to shut us down,” Winston said.

“Regardless, we must be on our best behavior.”

The metallic voice made my hair stand on end. Floating in the air, not walking but floating, was a fucking tin can.

_The smell is more than I can stand. The burned, charred smell, ripe with rot and shit, it hits my nose with every breath. I feel the tears, but I don’t know that I’m crying. A large metal husk, the corpse of a damn tank Omnic, is in front of me._

_It had crushed two houses in its death spasm. Blood stained the underside; a hand was sticking out from under it._

_“Look at what the machines have done to us, Aleksandra,” father said. “Stop crying! See what they did! If they see you crying, they’ll come back for us. Turn your fear into hate. Hate them, and destroy them, so they may never do this to us again.”_

“What is a fucking tin can doing here?!”

Why is everyone staring at me? There’s a goddamn Omnic here! They are Overwatch, they should be destroying these abominations!

“Zarya, calm yourself,” Morrison growled. Suddenly he was all business. But he was staring at me, not at that floating can. “Zenyatta is part of our team.”

“Bullshit he is,” I spat.

“You need to watch your attitude!” He yelled. The people around us stop and stare. I glared back. “I know you have battled Omnics in the past, but you _will_ check that shit at the door. Zenyatta is a valuable member of our team; has been for years.”

“Omnics aren’t our friends,” I said. “They’re the enemy, and they will turn on us.”

“Zarya, please, he’s a friend.” It was Angela, gently placing a hand on my arm.

“Do you know what burning flesh smells like?” I demanded. That made her grow deathly serious. “I learned that smell before I could properly read. Do you know how people dance as they burn alive? Does anyone? Be glad you don’t.”

“I said, watch your attitude,” Morrison said. He spoke with quiet fury, but I had faced quiet fury before. “You suffered. We get that. But Zenyatta is part of the team, and if you want to be part of Overwatch, you _will_ work with him. If you don’t like that, your plane is still getting gassed up. Get back on it, and go back to Russia; we don’t need you.”

I nearly took him up on the offer. But I bit my tongue; orders were orders, and Overwatch had to be brought back to the Crisis.

Mei caught my attention. Her eyes were wide, and she was taking an unconscious step back from me. She was scared. Did I…was she scared of me? I wasn’t the enemy, that tin can was.

I saw my reflection in her glasses. I was some big Ruskie who was yelling at them. Of course I was scaring her; she was so tiny. Suddenly I was ashamed. I didn’t mean to scare her; I _never_ wanted to scare her.

“Understood,” I made myself say. It was easier to think of making Mei better than to admit to working with a machine.

“Will you work with us? With Zenyatta?”

Damn this old man, he wanted me to say it.

“Da, I can work with him.”

“You’re not just agreeing with me, are you?” He snarled. I actually smiled at that. “Saying what you want me to hear?”

“Please. I am used to doing things I don’t want to do,” I said. “I am Russian.”

“This better not be a problem going forward.”

“Despite your hate, I do look forward to working with you,” the tin can said.

“Piss on that, Ominc,” I spat.

“You’re out of line, soldier,” Morrison yelled. “Stow that shit and—“

“Jack, please.” How could Morrison, the founder of Overwatch, stand to let that…that _thing_ put its hand on his shoulder? “She is not wrong.”

“…What?” Morrison said.

“…What?” I said.

“Zen, she spat at you and called you a can,” Morrison said.

“And she was at the forefront of both Omnic Crises,” it said. “Her pain is understandable. She is not wrong to be wary.”

“She’s not wrong,” Fareeha said, full of disbelief. I had to admit, I was not understanding the damn can either. “So you let her call you names and slurs?”

“Not being wrong does not make her right,” it said. Great, it speaks in riddles, too. “Zarya, I know words cannot correct anything. As Jack is fond of saying, ‘talk is cheap.’ But if there is one thing that you must know of me, know that I am sorry for the pain and suffering my brethren have caused you.”

“So good to know you care.” I knew when I was being mocked.

“Drop it, that’s an order,” Morrison snapped.

“Yes sir.”

I grabbed my bags and my cannon. Working with a tin can; this job took a very quick turn for the worst.

“Come, I’ll show you where your room will be,” Ana said.

“I’ll find it myself,” I said. “I need to get the taste of metal out of my mouth.”


	11. The Soldier Who Came in from the Cold

The damn metal taste lingered on my tongue even when I found my room. Someone at Overwatch went out of their way; they put my name on the door, both in English and in Cyrillic. Morrison hadn’t given me any orders other than ‘work with the tin can,’ so I decided to see what this facility had.

They had a gym. And a damn good one.

It was old, like the rest of the watch point, but surprisingly well maintained. It looked like someone was using it when Overwatch was disbanded; if the weights that were left out were any indication, that person was a beast. Maybe Winston liked to pump iron.

I walked around the gym, examining all of the equipment. It had everything I needed to stay in peak shape, which was excellent. I may not be a bodybuilder any more, but old habits truly did die hard.

I quickly ran back to my room and pulled my little book from my pack. Back in the gym, I flipped through it and matched up the exercises that I needed to do with the equipment present. It had everything I needed for a full rotation. I could work out every day for two weeks and not repeat any exercises. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Flipping through my little book, I realized just how quiet it was here. There was no sound of weights being racked and re-racked, no grunts of excursion, no one yelling for one more rep or to finish strong.

No one but me.

Back in Russia, privacy was a premium, especially at the front. It was partially intentional; it was the buddy system in action. No one could go off on their own and either get lost or picked off by a rogue Omnic. With a friend, you were safe. Or at least saf _er_. But it also meant that someone was always watching you.

Here, in this empty gym, I could just be me. No more watching my tongue and guarding my thoughts. No more wondering if I was hidden behind web proxies and unindexed message boards. No more worrying that Operation Paedophilia had finally caught me.

Going around the gym, writing a schedule, it took me back to St. Petersburg. I was only there until the First Crisis ended, before our homes could be rebuilt, but it was where I got my start at bodybuilding. Being a kid, I could barely move anything; I would get in the way more often than not. I could only use it at night, learn the proper form to lift. It was so quiet and safe, it truly felt like home.

I began absentmindedly filling out routines for a few weeks. As I was writing, I remembered that pretty…no, there could be no slip up. I had to watch myself, even here.

I remembered _that woman,_ Mei. Just who was she? She was treating Morrison and Amari like old friends. But she was so young.

A knock at the door made me jump.

“Sorry.” It was Mei, with that smile that seemed to always be on her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It is fine,” I said, finishing a routine in my book. The gym wasn’t quiet anymore. “Has Morrison decided to take back his offer on having me here?”

“What? No, he hasn’t.”

“Good. I was…hoping to fight with him.” I couldn’t say I wanted to see her again. I could never say that. I have to get Overwatch back to fighting Omnics; I couldn’t do that with being kicked out.

“I’m sorry, but am I interrupting?”

“Interrupting what?” I asked.

“Well, I had to ask what caused you to…you know, with Zenyatta,” Mei said. I’m sure I made a damn fine first impression. “I didn’t know you lived in Siberia when the Crisis began. I’m so sorry. Uh, what I mean is, are you planning on working out? It seems like a good way to release stress.”

She was stammering. I must have made a truly big scene for her to still be off-guard. Just a big fucking Ruskie, screaming at an enemy.

“No, just seeing what they have,” I said. “Being a bodybuilder is more than just mindlessly going to the gym.”

“It is?”

“Da, completely different. You have to hit certain parts of your body each day; focus on legs one day, then back, then core, and arms; you have to keep it all in rotation. What most men forget is to even things out, or forget to rest and recover, to let their bodies rebuild the muscles they tore apart.”

“Do all men do that? Just, work out mindlessly?”

“Not all men, but the ones who do unbalanced work outs, they are almost _always_ men,” I laughed. “Too focused on biceps or shoulders. They miss leg day, and look like chickens. Massive upper body, pencil-thin legs.”

That made Mei laugh. Smiling, I forced myself to look back at my book, away from her. I couldn’t linger on her face.

“So I have to make sure I don’t end up like them,” I mumbled, trying to think of something to say. “Just…getting a lay of the land.”

“Well, if you’re done looking around, they’re about to serve dinner,” she said. “Would you like to eat with us?”

“I would like that. The flight over here was long.”

“Great!” She was all smiles. Those smiles would get me in trouble. “But I have to warn you: Zenyatta will be there.”

Dammit. I must’ve faltered, because Mei began stumbling all over herself.

“If it’s too much, you can just eat with me,” she said. “Just me, and…and the others will be there by chance.”

“Don’t worry, I can eat with that can.”

“Jack said you would have to call him by his name.”

“The old man was making things hard,” I mumbled.

“Zarya, please.”

“It is fine, I’ve done harder things than hold my tongue,” I said. “I will keep my peace. But if the Omnic—“

“Zenyatta.”

“Yes, if ‘Zenyatta’ tries anything…”

“He won’t,” Mei promised. She sounded very convinced. “Zenyatta is an old friend. He’s up to nothing.”

“How do you know it won’t break its promise?”

“’Him.’ Zenyatta is a ‘him.’”

Fine, I can play that game.

“Then how do you know ‘he’ won’t break ‘his’ promise?”

“Zenyatta was with Overwatch before it dissolved,” she said. “So was I. We’ve worked together a few times.”

“How is that possible?” I asked. “You say you’ve worked with them, but you’re so…how are you so young?”

“Cryogenics,” she said with a warm smile, “but I wouldn’t recommend it. Come on, dinner’s getting cold.”

 

* * *

 

The slop they had here seemed much better than the slop back on the front. That was one perk of being off the front lines.

The dining hall was large, and plenty of Overwatch men and women were eating. They nearly filled the room up. Being alone in the gym was nice, but being in a room full of people happily eating was pleasing as well, even if I had to be the Zarya everyone thought I was.

Mei lead me through the room until she saw Morrison. He sat with Amari, Angela, Fareeha, Winston and Reinhardt, both of whom somehow managed to squeeze into the little table. That tin can Zenyatta sat at the end. Fortunately, they left a seat for me at the other end of the table. I happily took it. Mei pulled the chair out for me; I smiled my thanks. She sat next to me.

Any talk at the table seemed to mute as I sat down.

“I’m glad that we can all be civil here,” Morrison said.

“I apologize for my outburst earlier,” I said. “I am Russian. And Russia remembers her enemies.”

Morrison snorted.

“Funny you say that,” he said. “It wasn’t _that_ long ago that we were in a conflict of sorts.”

“What do you mean? We never came to blows.”

“Good thing, too,” he said. “We might’ve nuked the planet over a few times if we did.”

“Ah, you mean the Cold War.”

“What, you forget that happened?” Morrison asked. “My dad used to tell me stories of when he watched the Wall come down.”

“Oh, we remember the Cold War,” I smiled. “Don’t you worry. Russia remembers you just fine.”

Jack laughed and went back to eating.

“You Capitalist Pig.”

Morrison stopped to stare at me. I could feel everyone at the table staring at me. I went on eating, ignoring him.

Then Mei started laughing. I smiled; I was glad she was the first to pick up on it.

“You don’t mean…” Morrison started. Then Fareeha saw my smile and she started laughing. “You’re still not sore about the Cold War, are you…?”

“Dad, she’s messing with you,” Fareeha said.

Dad? He was her father?

But Fareeha got the rest of the table to laugh. Reinhardt was laughing the loudest. He was full-on pounding the table.

“She has gotten you good, Jack!” He roared. “The look on your face!”

“Not every day someone gets you to do a double-take,” Angela giggled. She even laughed like an angel.

Morrison glared at me, his face burning a little redder than normal.

“Jack, please, it was a joke,” Ana said, a hand on his shoulder.

“No, it was good,” he said. “Can’t say I saw it coming. Shit, can’t remember the last time someone got the upper hand on me.”

“It doesn’t chafe your pride?” Zenyatta the Can said. I ignored him.

“It does, but that’s a sign it’s keeping me humble.”

“What about the time Fareeha put black shoe polish on the inside of your combat visor?” Mei said. That made me nearly spit up my soup. Morrison, the Strike Commander of Overwatch, have a black shoe polish mask?

“How could we forget that?” Winston roared. “It wouldn’t come off for hours!”

“You looked like some kind of bank robber,” Ana laughed.

“I almost forgot about that,” Fareeha said.

“It _was_ a long time ago,” Morrison said. He seemed to be taking it in stride.

“Long for you, but for me, it wasn’t too much of a stretch,” Mei said. “The perks of being in cryo, right?”

“Yes, you get to avoid the pitfalls of becoming old,” Ana said. “At least, for now.”

“Perhaps you can give her some pointers, Ana,” Zenyatta said. “Show her how to age with grace.”

“Hey, sucking up to her is supposed to be _my_ job, Zen,” Morrison said.

So this was how Overwatch was. These were the men and woman whom saved the world. These were the heroes they told us about. It was…it was nice to see them, nice to work with them, nice to have the chance of working together. This was more than a dream come true.

“Speaking of old friends, where is Lena?” Ana said.

“’Tracer’ is on assignment,” Winston said. “Following up a possible lead we have on Talon.”

The humans that were drawing them away from the Crisis? This is important. I tried to look uninterested, but I was listening intently.

“Well, Lena likes playing with fire. Hopefully she’ll know when to call for help,” Ana said.

“I have seen a few pictures of Tracer since Overwatch was disbanded,” I said. “How come she has not aged at all? She still looks very young.”

“The short answer? I don’t know,” Winston said. “I have a few theories, though. It’s possible that her chronal disassociation is causing her cells to live in a state of flux. It’s possible that she’s in her own little time bubble; I believe it’s acting as a kind of age-retardant. It’s possible she might not age at all.”

Now that would be a talent to have. Never age, never lose your edge. Even if I stayed in competitive bodybuilding, I would only be able to compete for a few more years before I became the ‘old woman’ of the sport.

“Never aging, hmm?” Ana said as she sipped at her tea. “Maybe she can be the next great Overwatch cradle robber.”

What?

A ‘cradle robber?’ Someone…someone at Overwatch was…she couldn’t mean that someone in Overwatch was…attracted to _children_ , could she…? No, they were heroes, saviors of the world. Why was she looking at Angela? 

Fareeha sighed, like she had heard such an insane proposition before.

“Mom…”

“Yes?”

I wasn’t the only one who stopped and stared; everyone at the table had paused. Not only did Ana had answered her, but Angela did as well.

“I’m sorry,” Angela smiled. “She calls me ‘mommy’ too.”

I gasped. Or would have, if I wasn’t trying to drink water at the same time. My lungs burned, and I spat almost on command. I was only dimly aware of Mei patting my back as I gasped and coughed.

“That’s it, keep coughing,” she laughed.

They couldn’t be…together? That couldn’t be possible. How could they be so cavalier about it, so open? Weren’t they afraid of someone reporting them?

_The teacher stands in front of my classroom._

_“The Omnics are a threat to Russia, but they are not the only one,” he said. “They are aided by faggots, those who wish to see our country burn.”_

But they were all laughing, Winston and Reinhardt the loudest. No one was yelling at them, calling them ‘faggot.’ Were they safe here?

“Mom, please,” Fareeha said.

_It is Valentine’s Day, and Natalie sits next to me. I should have bought her flowers; she is so pretty. But she is talking to the boys, and they can never know what I feel. I cannot be a traitor to Russia._

“Don’t worry, I know that your angel is giving me a hard time,” Ana said. “I’ve already given you my blessings, but I must know one thing…”

She approved of this?! This had to be some kind of trap; I’ve seen it before. The message boards, the promises of safety, only for the posters to never be heard from again, victims of Occupy Paedophilia.

_The message board is silent. It has been for days. Under_The_Radar has said she found a safe place, where she could be who she really is, but hasn’t posted an update. My blood runs cold. She must have been caught._

“…What happens if I kill an angel? Would she become an angelic ghost?”

But there have been stories telling the opposite. Men and women who found a place to be together. Could this be it?

“I don’t plan on finding out anytime soon, _mother_ ,” Angela laughed.

Everyone was laughing. I had to fit in; if Russia had taught me anything, it was better to fit in than to stand out. I was used to doing things I didn’t want to do. So I did whenever someone made a gay joke, or called someone a faggot: I laughed along with them. Hopefully no one heard how forced it was.

“You’d better. If you break my daughter’s heart, I will break your legs.”

“And if I die before that?”

“Then I will kill you again.”

Was this a truly safe place? I knew better than to think that, but part of me was excited at the possibility.

“Are you okay?” Mei asked. She was looking at me. She could see my panic; my hands are shaking. “Does Angela need to have a look at you?”

“No, I am fine,” I said. “Just…it went down the wrong pipe. Still bothering me.”

“Well, if it changes, we have the best doctor sitting across the table,” she smiled.

But I’ve seen traps, messages to lure gays out. This would not be the first time someone tried to fool me. If this is a trap, I would find it out. I won’t be lured out. I won’t end up like those men and women who trusted the wrong person.


	12. The Soldier Who Came in from the Cold

I was glad that no one else had decided to use the gym; I had it all to myself. I spent a good twenty minutes walking around the machines and the weights, just to calm myself. It was quiet here. I was alone. I was safe.

Fareeha had kissed Angela. Kissed her! In front of everyone! It had to be play, I was sure. But if it wasn’t…no, I couldn’t get ahead of myself. There were people in Russia who cared for everyone, gay or not, people who stood by them no matter what; but for every one of those people, there were two or three Occupy Paedophilia goons. I had to be sure, and to be sure, I had to take my time.

I pulled my little book from my pocket and read over my work out schedule. I was halfway done before I went to dinner with Mei. I needed to finish.

The chance never came. A klaxon blared, a call to arms. I might not be able to finish my workout schedule, but a fight would help clear my mind.

I bolted from the gym and ran to my room. It was all muscle-memory; I had laid out my armor, and was quick to slide into it. My precious cannon was exactly where I left it; next to my bed, under a massive terry cloth blanket, in power saving mode.

The connectors in my gloves sparked to life as I grabbed the handle and pulled it up. It synced to my power pack and let out a reassuring blip; it was ready for action. Yes, this was just what I needed.

Overwatch must meet in the hanger bay, so I ran there as quick as I could. Morrison beat me to a jet plane by a few seconds.

“Glad you’re quick on your feet,” he said.

“Perks of being on the front,” I said. “You are quick to a fight.”

Mei and Angela were next, with Fareeha and her mother following right behind them. I excused myself to examine the plane, just to help clear my head.

“Are you alright?” I jumped; Mei had snuck up on me. Dammit, I thought that her smile would get me in trouble; it was her eyes that would do me in. They were filled with concern, and from what I could tell, it was genuine.

“Just need a fight,” I mumbled.

“Ach! Let me go, woman!”

I looked up; Reinhardt was trying to run to the plane, half-armored, and a brown-haired woman in tow.

“Your armor still isn’t ready yet!” She yelled. “You want to run in half-naked?”

“Brigitte, our friend is in trouble,” Reinhardt said. “She needs our help.”

“Reinhardt, we can’t help Tracer if you get hit,” Morrison said. “We need you at one-hundred percent for the next deployment. Go, fix your armor, we’ll be fine.”

“Jack is right.” Dammit, it was that floating tin can Zenyatta. “If you are hurt, you will not be able to save the next life. Be at peace, and chose your battles.”

“Fine,” Reinhardt spat. “But only because my armor decided to stop working.”

“Maybe if you wouldn’t push it so hard, it might last,” the woman Brigitte said.

“Reinhardt, we got a group of six, we’re good,” Morrison said. “Everyone, on the plane. Now!”

I let Angela and Fareeha go first. I let Zenyatta go next. Ana, Morrison and Mei were next. I brought up the rear, staying as far to the back as possible. There were a line of chairs on the jet, and I quickly strapped myself in. Mei sat next to me, a worried look on her face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked.

“Positive,” I mouthed.

The world spun as the jet took off. We were in a hurry; we got in the air damn fast. Fortunately, it was a vertical take-off jet, and we didn’t need to waste time to taxi to a runway.

“Winston’s system just got a call from Tracer,” Morrison said. “She was following a Talon group when an opportunity presented itself; she was able to capture enemy intel. Downside is, her cover was blown and she almost got caught. She’s running from Talon, and needs us to pick her up.

“She’s in the south of France; we should be there within twenty minutes. We need to get on the ground, find Tracer, and neutralize any Talon mercs we find. So get your game faces on, we need to hit the ground running. Winston will be on heads, providing support.”

Tracer. Another hero of Overwatch. Was she…? No, I couldn’t focus on that. I had to focus on saving her. I couldn’t think of her as a person, but as on objective. Talon wanted to kill her, a hero of the Omnic War. That made me angry. That felt right. Anger was good; I knew anger. I didn’t know whatever…whatever Angela and Fareeha were or what they made me feel.

We had a little time, so I ran over my cannon’s diagnostics. I had done it twice before putting it in sleep mode, but it helped me clear my mind, and focus on getting angry at whomever these ‘Talon’ people were.

The temperature dropped. I looked up; Mei had some kind of blaster in her hand.

“What is that?”

“Endothermic blaster,” she smiled. I had to look at that strange blaster to keep myself from staring. “Built it myself.”

“Doesn’t look like much.”

“Trust me, it’s got the goods.”

The airplane dipped. We would be attacking soon. That meant I got to lead us out of the plane. I grinned; I like running point.

“Zarya, you clear an area,” Morrison called. “This town has two levels, a low level by the sea, a high level away from it. You sweep low.”

“Understood.”

“Fareeha, Angela, you’re with me. Zen, you and Mei back up Zarya. Ana, find a place best for you and provide support as needed. We meet in the middle of the town where Tracer’s pinned down.”

The damn Omnic was with me? Fucking Morrison was pushing me, I knew it. I also knew I had to prove him wrong. If we wanted to see how I could fight with on Omnic, I would show him.

The plane dipped, and the doors opened. I jumped to the ground, scanning the area. There were no threats.

“Clear!”

“You know what to do,” Morrison said. “Get to it!”

There was a street that sloped down; it must go to the lower portion of the city. I took it, watching for enemies. Gunfire echoed from across the city. Hopefully that would be Morrison getting to work. Peeking over my shoulder, I could see Zenyatta not too far from Mei.

“I’ve got my eye on you, Omnic,” I growled.

“And I will watch your back in turn,” ‘he’ replied.

Mei chuckled at that. Fine, it was a good one. But knowing that an Omnic would be with me, it made me even more angry. It was much better than feeling like this whole Angela and Fareeha thing was at trap to lure me out, or what Mei made me feel. I couldn’t be the hunted; I had to be the hunter. 

A group of black-armored, heavily armored men broke from cover. They seemed to be busy fighting Morrison and his group; they never noticed us. They only noticed when my cannon spat out two explosive shots at them.

My particle cannon was at no charge; un-amplified, the shots only battered the men. They opened fire on me. My shields drained, but I was quick to activate my particle barrier.

“Is that all you’ve got?” My charge gauge quickly filled, and the power of my cannon grew.

The next two lobs were able to truly hurt them. Bodies were thrown about, and I carved through the rest of them with ease.

“From Russia, with love,” I laughed. This felt better.

More of these Talon people fell in. I ducked to cover, but saw that Mei had her back turned to them; she seemed to be forming an ice wall from thin air.

“Mei!”

She yelped as the men attacked her. But I was quicker. I thumbed a switch, and a projected barrier popped over her, protecting her from harm. The barrier took the shots for her, and my cannon grew even stronger. She was quick to find cover before it failed.

“You saved me,” she smiled.

“Da,” I smiled back. “You are covered.”

I leaned out from cover, shooting all four shots into the Talon group. By then, I was at maximum charge; they stood no chance against me.

“Check out this _gun_ , Talon!” This was much better. “Move up, we need to meet with Morrison.”

I pushed on, and Mei fell in by my side. I was feeling good. Then I noticed a strange ball hovering over me.

“What is that?”

“An orb of Harmony,” Zenyatta said. “It is giving you a much needed boost.”

Fucking Ominc. Just knowing that he was helping me made me angry. Better that then feeling whatever it was when it was just Mei around.

We didn’t have to wait long until we ran into more Talon mercs. They were by the point that Tracer was pinned down at, and if I had to bet, they were going to prevent her from leaving at all.

Rockets blasted their position, but it was covering fire. I looked to the sky and I could see Fareeha, flying about with some kind of damned rocket jet pack. If I wasn’t so attached to my cannon, I would want a gun like that.

But my cannon had a graviton surge. Did hers have that? Probably not.

“Let me get this,” I said, lobbing the surge towards the group. Gravity fluxed, and they were pulled into the singularity. Fareeha must have seen it, because she let lose a barrage of rockets that obliterated them.

“Gravity kills! And rockets sure do help,” I laughed.

I looked to the tiny shack that Tracer was at. Morrison was sprinting up to her.

“’Bout time the cavalry got here!” It had to be Tracer.

“Damn right,” Morrison said. “Now let’s move. Fall back!”

I was peppering the surviving Talon men with explosive shots, just to keep them at bay. I paused to reload, and that’s when a whole group pressed the attack.

They must have been waiting for a lull in the bombardment. I was so used to working with more people; I forgot that there was no one to cover my reloads. I pressed the barrier button, just as they let loose with a withering barrage. I had to fall back.

The barrier ended, and my shields quickly drained. They were surging, attacking en masse. I was at full charge, but I wouldn’t be able to take them all out, not in time.

Funny. I always figured I would die at the hands of an Omnic.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped. It quickly felt like home. What was causing that?

I looked up at the attacking group. A massive blizzard had spawned in the middle of them, freezing them solid.

“Zarya, are you alright?” It was Mei. She was at my side, and looked like she threw some kind of drone.

“Da, just shaken.”

“Good.” How could she smile so big? Forget her eyes, that damn smile would get me in trouble. “They looked like they needed a time out.”

“Let’s make sure they don’t get a time in, yes?”

With my cannon at full charge, it was easy to cut the frozen terrorists down.

“We must leave,” Zenyatta said. Damn, I had hoped that someone would kill him. “Jack would be waiting for us at the jet.”

I made sure to watch our backs as we ran back to the ship. We were last, but Morrison, Ana and Fareeha were waiting, sweeping the area with their guns and a rocket launcher. Tracer was there, carrying a large briefcase.

“One Talon case of intel, just as ordered!” She cheerily said.

“Good work,” Morrison said. “Get on board, we need to leave.”

“Da, that we do,” I said, climbing aboard. I gave Mei a hand, and pulled her into the jet. She was so light. She smiled, and sat next to me. This had to be some kind of test. No way this place was safe. “A quick mission to get the blood pumping.”

“Sure wasn’t quick to me,” Tracer laughed. “Still, all’s well that ends well! I didn’t miss dinner, did I? I’m starving.”


	13. The Soldier Who Came in from the Cold

It was well past eleven pm, and I couldn’t sleep. I was tossing and turning in bed, doing anything but getting shut eye.

This was the shortest sortie I was ever in. Back on the front, either the Omnics would mount an attack, or we would launch a counter-attack and spend hours in the field. One time the battle had raged the entire day. We’d surge, take control of the objective, only to have the Omnics take it back, then we would rally and recapture it. Tertiary support lines had to be called upon to finally capture the point.

But this battle was barely an hour long. We spent more time in the air, flying to and from the battle than actually in the battle itself. It left me wanting more.

Finally, at quarter to midnight, I gave up. If I couldn’t sleep, then maybe I could get some work done.

Dressing quickly, I went to the gym with my little book. I had planned on doing some simple lifts and jerks to get back in to the bodybuilding cycle. I racked the bars, loaded the weight, and went to work.

I had spent too much time on the front; my seventy-percent max had dropped.

Groaning, I took weights off the bar until I could do ten reps. My dead lift rep weight dropped to one-hundred and fifty kilos; my jerk cleans were down to one hundred. And I had to push myself to do eighty kilo split jerks.

All the while, I couldn’t get Mei out of my head. How she…how she smiled. Like it lit up her entire face. That smile would get me in trouble. But if Angela and Fareeha were truly open…

I hit my max reps and dropped the bar. I still didn’t feel tired enough to sleep, either physically or mentally. There was too much going on to sleep. Well, a big workout meant I would have a big appetite. Maybe the cafeteria would still be open. I re-racked the weights, both as a cool down and as a courtesy, then walked through the facility.

There were a few night-shift soldiers. They nodded politely to me as I passed them. I made myself look strong and in control, in case they were watching.

Opening the door to the food court, I was glad to see that they were still open. They were serving cold food; cereal, instant oatmeal, and a few pieces of fruit, but they were open. And sitting at a table, sipping what looked like tea, was Angela.

I should just ignore her. But she’s like me; she had to be. But then, I’ve seen men and women pretend to be homosexual to lure others out. There was always some kind of tell. But she didn’t have any that I could see. She kissed Fareeha without any discomfort. And she was still alive, and unbeaten to boot. It was a risk, but if this place was truly safe…

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked.

Angela looked up from her book. She was tired, with bags starting to form under her eyes. But she was still alert.

“Zarya, this is a surprise,” she smiled. “Please, sit down. You can’t sleep either?”

“Not after a fight,” I said, taking a seat across from her. “This fight was too short. I have to do something else, yes?”

“Ah, the good old adrenaline addiction,” she laughed.

“You have it too, da?”

“No, quite the opposite,” she said. “I’m actually too scared to sleep.”

“Too scared? I thought you of all people wouldn’t be scared of a battle.”

“Surprising, isn’t it?” She smiled. “I’m a healer. Yes, I carry a pistol for protection, but I hardly use it. Call it an old habit, but I’m a big believer in the motto ‘First, Do No Harm.’”

“But you’ve been fighting for years.”

“And I never get any better at it. Like you, my home was destroyed in the Crisis. But I never learned how to be fight. Instead, I wanted to help people. I’m better at jumping into a warzone now than I was before, but it still scares me.”

She took a sip from her tea cup. I noticed what looks like a red love mark on her neck. If this was a trap, it was a damn good one, and I deserved to fall for it.

“Is that a…?”

Angela chuckled.

“A gift from Fareeha,” she smiled. There was no way they could be faking that tone of voice. My heart pounded in my chest. “Fighting gets her in a mood, and I like those moods. But fights keep me awake; she doesn’t have the same problem I have. So to let her sleep, I come out here.”

“She really does call you ‘mommy?’” I laughed.

“Actually, she does,” Angela laughed. “I tried to psychoanalyze her, but it only made her mad. So I just let her call me whatever she wants.”

I had always dreamt of finding a place like this, where I could truly be myself. I had so many questions, but somehow I couldn’t think of any of them. Dammit, I had to come up with something.

“I don’t mean to pry, but…did you always know you were like this?” I asked.

“What way?”

“Well…” Come on, find your nerve. “Always liking women.”

“Ah. I know where this is headed,” Angela said. She slid a bookmark in between the pages and closed the book. “You have some questions?”

“Wish I could remember them,” I mumbled. I must have been blushing something awful. “I never thought I’d find a place like this, where I could talk freely.”

“’A safe place?’” Angela asked. “What made you think Overwatch wasn’t safe?”

“It’s a long story. How long have you known? Do your parents know?”

“My parents died in the Crisis.”

“Oh. I’m…sorry.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” she smiled.

“You never tried dating a man?”

“Well, there was this _one_ time in college,” she said. “Everyone always said college was the time to experiment, so I decided to try kissing a boy. Tried it a few times, but I didn’t like it. And if I didn’t care much for kissing boys, dating one wouldn’t be much fun either.”

“So thorough,” I laughed.

“I _am_ a scientist,” she smiled.

“Ana called you a ‘cradle robber.’ Does she mean that you…”

“Seduced Fareeha?” She asked.

“Yes, that.”

“There’s a story behind that,” Angela said. “Fareeha grew up in Overwatch. She was a baby when it was formed. I joined as soon as I could, and we both knew each other since then. So when Fareeha first told her mother of us, she didn’t quite approve. She saw me as a friend who took a step too far.

“I won’t lie, I was attracted to her when she grew older. She was such a cutie. But we were friends, and I didn’t want to make things…strange by asking her out, or professing to her. Then, one day, out of the blue, she came up to talk to me. Turns out she was attracted to me since the first time she saw me; she had only just decided to risk telling me.

“It took me by surprise, but I think she was more surprised when I told her I felt the same way about her. You should have seen the look in her eyes.” Angela smiled happily, wrapped in the warm memory. “Ana only calls me that to give me a hard time. Fareeha and I are only five years apart.”

“That’s…that’s beautiful.”

“Expecting less of me?” She chided gently.

“I just met you. I didn’t know what to make of this. How long did you know you were…this way?”

“Boy, _that’s_ going back,” she said. “Back when I was a girl, my friends would play ‘wedding,’ pretend we were getting married, planning the ceremony, who’d we invite, that whole thing. But I never wanted to marry a boy, I always wanted to marry a girl. I’m sure that’s when I knew that women were for me.”

“And you weren’t scared?”

“Hard to be scared when you’re a little girl who barely knew how the world worked.”

“And how did others take this? Your friends?”

“Back then, none of us really knew what it meant, being gay. They just accepted it as something that was part of me. As we grew older, and we knew what it really meant, it was old news to them. They were my friends, and they stood by me.”

“You’re lucky.”

“I know, I have heard plenty of horror stories,” she said. “Now it’s my turn to pry. I don’t mean to offend you, but this little Q and A session is ringing my gaydar. Are you gay?”

The moment of truth. I’ve told people, but always behind a screen name. Always on chat rooms, where you can look at a history, find out who was lying, who was honest, and who wanted to beat up a few gays.  Saying it in public…

“Yes.” I could feel myself blushing.

She took my hands. She was so dainty.

“Zarya, you said it yourself, this is a safe place,” she said. “I know that Russia isn’t the… _best_ place to be gay…”

“Please, you cannot be gay in Russia,” I laughed bitterly.

“So I’ve heard,” she said. “But this isn’t Russia. We don’t have people who think less of you because you’re gay.”

“I could tell when you pulled that whole ‘she calls me mommy’ line. The lack of screaming and a public beating tipped me off.”

“Public beating? I never knew.”

“I had to make sure it was safe to talk about. I’ve seen postings by men and women on message boards, say they found a safe place, and some do. But there are others who are never heard from again.”

“Well, Overwatch is safe,” she said. “Fareeha and I have been dating for years. This is home, and you can talk about whatever you want when you are at home.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t yelling, she wasn’t calling me ‘faggot,’ she wasn’t laughing, saying I was caught…I never felt this way before.

“I have to ask you, though. Why the pink hair?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, pink hair strikes me as something…well, that a stereotypical lesbian would do,” she said. “If you were trying to keep a low profile, why dye your hair pink?”

“What do you mean, ‘something a lesbian would do?’”

“No one ever questioned why you dyed your hair pink?”

“Da, they have,” I said. “I like pink. It is my favorite color.”

Angela looked at me, then broke out laughing.

“What?”

“I just got it,” she laughed. “No one would know what a lesbian would do, so they don’t know when an actual lesbian does it. They must not have stereotypes, or very good ones.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed. “And speaking of talking, I have a promise to keep.”

“What promise?”

“To Mei.” She smiled mischievously. “She likes you.”

I could barely speak.

“She…does?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you,” she laughed. “She came to me for advice, too. Wanted to know the best way to talk to you, and if she had a chance. That was before Tracer called for help and we had to go fight, that is.”

That pretty girl with the big smiles…she liked me?

“W-what did you tell her?”

“I was going to tell her to just go talk to you,” Angela said. “But then we had to fight, and she ran off to talk to Zenyatta.”

That damn tin can?

“Zarya, don’t get mad.” It was like she was reading my thoughts. Gone was her playful tone; she was serious. “Please. We know you suffered from the Crisis, but remember what Jack said.”

Don’t forget your orders.

“Da, I know.”

“Look, just go talk to her. Let her know that you like her, too.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, you turned about ten shades redder when I said it,” she smiled, back to being playful. “Tripped my gaydar big time.”

“What’s a gay-dar?”

“Right, no gay tropes in Russia,” she said. “Gay radar. The ability for one gay person to find another.”

“Oh.”

“So go talk to her.”

“But I—“

“ _Now_ ,” she smiled. “Doctor’s orders.”

“But where is she?”

“I would start in the third floor common area. That was a popular spot back in the day, she might be there.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done.”

Angela smiled.

“Just go talk to her. You’ll figure it out.”


	14. The Soldier Who Came in from the Cold

I was still new to Overwatch; I got lost a few times, but was able to find my way to the third floor. Just as Angela said, Mei was there in the common room, and from the looks of it, she was in her sleeping clothes; an oversized shirt and blue fuzzy pants. She was drinking tea, and talking to Zenyatta the damn Can, floating in midair like some damn robotic monk.

I felt the anger growing in me. How could she talk to that fucking thing?

_I saw my reflection in her glasses. I was some big Ruskie who was yelling at them. Of course I was scaring her; she was so tiny. Suddenly I was ashamed. I didn’t mean to scare her; I never wanted to scare her._

No, I couldn’t be that big, mean Ruskie. I couldn’t scare her again. If that meant swallowing my pride and getting close to an Omnic…then so be it.

“Hello?”

Both of them looked up.

“I, I was hoping to talk to you, Mei,” I said. I could feel myself blushing.

“It sounds like you need privacy,” Zenyatta said. “I will leave you. I will be meditating in my quarters if I am needed.”

“Thank you, Zen,” Mei said.

I stepped aside so the Ominc could float passed me. There was plenty of room, but I didn’t want to get close to him.

“Thank you for being civil,” he said. Then, he whispered. “You must know that no one will judge you here. I know there are terrible things done in Russia.”

“Da, Angela told me.”

“Then I am glad.”

What was this world coming to? The damn Omnic was sincere, I could tell. I watched him as he floated on out, not a care in the world.

“You’re up late,” Mei said, making me remember what made me find her. Other than Angela’s insistence.

“You are, too,” I mumbled. What was I supposed to say?

“What kept you up?”

Fuck it.

“Do you like me?” I stammered.

Mei was taken back. I thought she would blush, or run, but she laughed instead.

“You’ve been talking to Mercy, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes…”

“She knows how to be direct,” Mei said, all smiles. I let myself stare at her. “Yes, I do.”

“You…you do?” I couldn’t think of anything to say, nothing better than that.

“I wanted to tell you that when I first saw you,” she said. “But I didn’t want to make things…weird. Especially if you didn’t like women. I had to ask Zenyatta for help.”

“Why ask him for help?”

“It may surprise you, but he actually has really helpful advice,” she said. “He’s really good at reading people, too.”

“’Help.’ Strange for an Omnic to give help.”

“If there’s one thing I found out, the world is full of strange things,” she smiled. I couldn’t take my eyes off that smile. “Being gay, well, openly gay, is new to me. I already asked Fareeha for advice, too.”

“I’ll have to ask her. I don’t know how to be gay.”

“That makes two of us,” she laughed. “What made you pretend to be straight?”

“I told Angela this; you cannot be gay in Russia.”

“What do you mean?”

I sat down next to her.

“You never heard of Occupy Paedophilia, have you?” I asked. “Many Russians, nearly half, think that being gay is a disease, a sickness. Like you’d catch a cold. Not everyone believes in it, but those who do are vocal about it. Very vocal. They are the people who try to trick gays to outing themselves, and they beat them.”

“There has to be a law against that!”

“Oh, there’s a law, alright,” I said. “Have you ever heard of the ‘On Protection of Children from Information Harmful to their Health and Development’ amendment?”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“Da. A mouthful, but it is an amendment to Russian law.”

“You can’t mean it bans homosexuality,” she gasped.

“No, it doesn’t ban it. But it bans the mention of it where children might see it. And if you can’t talk about it, well, hard to say how it might be a real thing. The President and his administration are part of the loud, vocal minorities who speak out against homosexuality in Russia.”

“You mean you can’t even show a picture of a woman holding a woman’s hand?” Mei said. “Or a rainbow?”

“Only if you want to be arrested,” I said. “When I was ten, they tried to have a Gay Pride Parade. The police arrested anyone they could get their hands on.”

“They can’t do that.”

“It was better than what the Occupy Paedophilia goons did to them.”

“Then…How can you be so calm about this?”

“Because I had to be. Because everyone had to be. You cannot speak out against the state, they have laws against it; so you learn to live with it. I found myself looking at girls more and more as I grew up, but I knew better than to act upon it. I never, ever wanted to end up like those who were caught.”

“Then how did you find any help? You’re too comfortable with saying you’re, well, gay. I’ve seen people who have been in denial all their lives, they don’t take it well when they have to out themselves.”

“There are still places where you can say what you are,” I said. “Message boards. Forums. Places online. Those are the safest, and they are still dangerous.”

“How can they be dangerous?”

“The Russians who believe that being gay is a disease, they believe that gays are pedophiles.” I shifted in my seat. I was better at admitting what I was, but it still rubbed some part of me the wrong way. “They say gays are children rapists, animal fuckers, or Omnic spies.”

“That’s insane. Who says that?”

“Nearly every teacher I’ve ever had. When I first realized what I was…I was in a bad place. Finding out I liked women sent me to a worse one. I never wanted to seduce a child, to have a dog have its way with me, or to help a fucking Omnic. They said that’s what I was, but I felt none of those things. It took me a long time, and the right message boards, to realize the lies. That is where the true Russians are; online, on the message boards and forums. They are the ones who don’t believe that being gay is a crime.

“You have to be careful. You have to find the right message boards, and they are hidden. You have to speak in code, and you have to figure out what the code is to begin with. But the people who post things; I’ve never met them, meeting in person is too dangerous, but they were the loveliest people I’ve ever met. When I was in a bad place, they helped make me better. And when others said they were in the same place, I helped them, too.”

“Why can’t you meet them in person?”

“Occupy Paedophilia reads the boards, too. They like to make traps, lure people out. Make it seem like there is a safe place, then spring their trap. That is why you cannot be gay in Russia. They will find out.”

Mei took my hand. God, she was so tiny.

“How can you fight for them?” Mei asked. “Why fight for them?”

“Because it is my home,” I said. “I love my home. When I was a girl, the First Omnic Crisis destroyed my village. I still have nightmares from it. You cannot know the damage they did. There was nothing left. When we were able to return, after Overwatch destroyed them, we had to rebuild everything; there was nothing but rubble. Seeing my home destroyed, I hated them. Everyone hated the Omnics. I hated them, and it made me mad seeing how weak we were.”

“But they—“

“You cannot live in Russia and hate it. Patriotism, no, _Nationalism_ is everywhere. If there is a soldier in a store buying food, everyone moves aside and lets them move to the front. Newspapers and news channels are little more than mouthpieces for the state. If you speak out against the President, you risk being beaten or killed.

“Do you know what that does to a person? To a child? Russia is everything. The loud ones, the mouthpieces of the President, they make sure a child grows up the right way. Russia is our life, just as important as your family. Growing up, I wanted Russia to be great again. To return to when we were truly strong, before the fall of the Wall. It isn’t a choice, it is beaten into you at every turn. You don’t just walk away from that.”

“Then how do you live?” Mei asked. “How can you fight for something that would hurt you without even thinking about it?”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. I still loved my country, I truly did. But knowing of the people whom I talked to on the message boards, knowing that many of them disappeared, I still couldn’t bring myself to hate my country.

“I am gay. And I love my country,” I finally said. “That is all I know, all I care about. Look at me, making a scene. I’m probably just another big Ruskie, scaring you off.”

“I’ll be lying if I said there was a part of me that says I should leave,” Mei said. “But I don’t care what it says.”

I looked at her.

“How? Why?”

“You’re not the only one with a story to tell,” she smiled. “You asked me before how old I was. Well, I’m actually very old.”

“Yes, you said something about cryogenics, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she said. “But that comes later. Growing up, I guess you could say that I was like you. In China, my parents didn’t believe in gays. They thought it was…I don’t think they even stopped to consider it. You see, years ago in China, decades ago, people were limited to only having one child. And everyone wanted a boy. It took them a while to realize that if everyone had boys, there wouldn’t be enough girls to carry on the family tree.”

“Little short-sighted, no?”

“Very,” she smiled. It was nice to see her smile so big. “My parents couldn’t even comprehend me being gay. They wouldn’t. They were always setting me up on blind dates, introducing me to boys. I knew that I couldn’t get away from it, so I let them. I let them show me around, show me off to their friends, always telling others ‘we have a daughter!’ I even had plenty of boyfriends.”

I was awfully jealous of the boys.

“And it never ended. Even when I went away to university, they were always putting my name out there, telling others of their smart daughter who would make a good wife. Always asking me when I would settle down. I hated it, but I knew I couldn’t have it any other way.

“I studied environmental change in university. How the planet is warming, the effects it will have on a global scale, all of that. I joined Overwatch to help combat runaway climate change. You wouldn’t think it, but the floods, hurricanes and droughts that hit the world are caused by rapid climate change.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she said, that warm smile creeping into the corner of her lips. It was something she cared greatly about. “I wanted to make a difference, to help save the world from itself. I was ultimately assigned to a Watchpoint in Antarctica. I loved the challenge, to study first-hand how to best counteract global warming. But I would be gone for a year, easily. And there was this girl that I liked.”

She shook her head.

“I was going to tell her how I felt about her. I was going to tell my parents. But I never worked up the nerve. I promised myself, ‘just tell them when you get back. It’s only a year. You don’t want to disappoint mother and father.’ Too bad I never came back after that year.”

“What happened?”

“A massive blizzard completely cut us off from the world,” she said. “Destroyed nearly everything. We had no food, very little fuel. To save ourselves, we entered cryostasis to wait for a rescue mission. The next thing I know, I was waking up to a strange new world. I was in cryo for decades, the only one to survive.”

“What happened to the others?” I asked.

“As the facility lost power, their cryopods unfroze,” she said. “They probably starved to death, or froze, or suffocated.”

How could she be so cheerful, so easy to smile?

“Well, when I was rescued and woken up, I missed many, many things. My parents passed away. The girl I liked, she either she never liked women or she forced herself to marry a man. She has three children now, and is middle aged. That is why Ana, Fareeha, and Mercy know me, because I worked with them before I was frozen.”

“And why you look so young.”

“Yes, that too,” she laughed. “I missed so much of life. So I made a promise to myself: I wouldn’t let any other chance pass me up. I won’t let another Xiuxiu slip through my fingers.” She turned to me, taking my hands. “Zarya, I like you. I think you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, and I want to get to you better.”

What could I say…?

“I…I don’t think I’m ready to be gay,” I mumbled. My heart was pounding in my chest. “Or if I know _how_ to be gay. I have only told people online, behind screen names and proxy servers. Never, never like this.”

“Zarya, it’s fine,” she smiled gently. “I’ve been there. If you need to take your time, just say so. But if you want to try being out in the open, I’m right here. And you know that you can always talk to Angela or Fareeha.”

She looked at me, and I couldn’t help but look at her. The next thing I knew, tiny little Mei had wrapped her arms around me.

“This isn’t Russia. You can be who you really are here.”

I missed my country. I missed being in the fight. But maybe being here wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it could be great, even.

My orders were to get Overwatch back into the Omnic Crisis. It was a long game, so maybe I could take my time and truly enjoy this safe place.

“I know you’re not ready to be very open,” Mei said, “so I want to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?”

The next thing I knew, she was kissing me. It was a quick peck on the lips, but it felt like the entire world was slamming to a halt.

“I promised myself that I would kiss the next pretty girl I saw,” she smiled. “Sorry, but I want to keep this promise.”

It felt like I was going to burst into flames.

“When you’re ready for anything, please tell me,” she smiled. “And please don’t think any less of me for stealing that kiss.”

I’ve never been kissed before.

It felt _right_.

I watched her leave. My orders could wait. I wanted to feel this again, to be wanted and desired. Come whatever may, I would fight for this feeling, for this place.


	15. Along Came a Spider

**A Previous Life**

Amélie sat at her dressing table, staring at her ring.

It was made of thin gold, pressed to pure, delicate form with thin lines of platinum crisscrossing at even intervals, and was the perfect size for her finger. A delicate sapphire was embedded in the ring, only minutely jutting from the shiny metal. It didn’t have any kind of backing; it was suspended in the ring, held in place by the same delicate platinum that wrapped around the ring. With every ray of light that hit it, it shined with a light blue color.

The craftsmanship was truly astounding. It was crafted by an Omnic, a strange mixture of a truly handmade item, and the perfection of a machine. Its beauty took her breath away. Amélie handled it with both care, love, and regret.

There was a knock at her door.

“Come in, Lena.”

The door opened, and the dark-haired Brit poked her head in.

“How’d ya know it was me?” Lena asked.

Amélie could hear the forced humor in her voice. Lena was trying to appear as her regular old self: joyful, upbeat, and ever playful. Amélie knew her well, and knew when she was trying to cover something up.

“I just knew.”

“Oh, ya mean your famous intuition?” Lena said, stepping into the room properly. Amélie saw the swagger she walked with; it was another façade. She wore matching trousers and vest, a deep brown color with thin white pinstripes, perfectly fitted. A bolt of pain lanced through Amélie’s heart. Lena always looked good, but she looked even better when she dressed as sharp as she did.

Looking at her vest and pants, the pain seemed to redouble. It was the outfit Amélie had bought for her birthday last year.

“That’s right,” Amélie said, making herself smile. Lena wasn’t the only one in pain.

“So what’s your intuition sayin’ now, love?” Lena leaned, almost sat, at the edge of the dressing table.

“That you are in pain.”

That got Lena to stop. Even her carefully held smile fell, and Amélie knew how long Lena could hold that endearing grin.

“Lena, I--”

“I heard a rumor going around,” she said. “That Gérard gave you something.”

Amélie looked at the ring in her hand.

“It’s awfully pretty, isn’t it?” Lena said.

“Lena, please.”

“Please what, love? Please excuse you for taking a ring from him instead of me?”

“Lena, you are hurt. I know that. Please do not make this harder than it already is.”

“You know, I was looking at rings too,” she said. Amélie bit her lip. “You know how much you mean to me, and I know how much I mean to you.”

“Lena…”

“Then I hear that you went and took a ring from Gérard. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Lena, you know me,” Amélie said. “You know how much I love you, and how much I love Gérard.”

“So that’s supposed to make me feel better about how you said you’d marry him?” Lena said.

“Non,” Amélie said. “Non, I knew there is nothing that would make you feel better about that. But—“

“So why’d you agree to marry him?” Lena pressed. Amélie couldn’t look her in the eyes. She saw the pain that was in them, and she couldn’t stand knowing that no matter what she did, someone would be hurt. “Why’d you say yes? I thought you loved me.”

The pain lessened, if only because of a growing coal of anger.

 “Lena, you are hurt,” she said. “I know that. But that does not mean that you can say such hateful things.”

“What, can’t us spurned lovers snap at each other a little?”

“Dammit, Lena, I love you,” she yelled. “I love you more than life itself. And you should know that I love Gérard the same way. Merde, Gérard knows about you, he knows about the love I have for you, how much love I have for the _both_ of you! So do not go saying that I cannot love you, you know that is simply not true.”

Lena met her glare, but relented, as if she had realized what she said, and if she could take back what was said.

“I wasn’t lying about the ring,” she mumbled. “I had one picked out and everything. Spent days looking for it. I was just waiting for my next paycheck to clear.”

“Lena, I am so sorry.”

Amélie was surprised, but glad, that Lena let her take her hands.

“It just…it just feels like these past few years haven’t meant anything,” Lena said. “Like we didn’t have something.”

“Lena, chérie, we do have something,” she said. “Remember what I told you, about what my mother said about me?”

“About how so damn filled with love you were?” Lena chuckled. “Hard to forget that. You said you loved me then.”

“And that has not changed. But my mother did not just say how filled with love I was, it was that I was filled with so much love that it could not be contained to just one person. I love you, and I also love Gérard. I do not love Gérard more than you, and I do not love you more than Gérard. Both of you are the loves of my life. I have never loved anyone so much as I love the both of you.”

“Then why did you say ‘yes’ when Gérard asked you to marry him?” Lena asked.

Amélie had been thinking of what to say. She had been thinking of how to express herself, how to describe her feelings, how to make Lena see. She had promised herself she would be articulate, but as she spoke, she could feel the promise break.

“Because it would not be fair to him,” she mumbled. “Or to you.”

“So now it’s back to what’s fair?” Lena laughed.

“Non, non, non, that is not what I meant,” she stammered. “Would you be able to love Gérard?”

“Think you know the answer to _that,_ love.”

“And he would not be able to love you, too. But both of you would have to love each other if all of us were to stay together. Do you remember how those dates have went, when it was all three of us?”

“Wish I didn’t.”

“Can you imagine living like that? Can you imagine _that_ being your every day? Because that is how it was for the longest time, and neither of you enjoyed it. And if you truly wanted me, that is how our lives together would have to be.”

Lena was quiet. She let Amélie continue to hold her hands.

“That is why I said ‘yes’ to Gérard. What we have is amazing and great, but it cannot continue. I want the both of you, but the both of you cannot live with each other. It had to end, Lena. It simply would not work with all of us. I love the both of you, but you cannot love each other.”

“And if I got you that ring before Gérard…?”

“Lena, please, you cannot do this to yourself,” Amélie said. “You cannot spend all of your time thinking about ‘what if-s’ and ‘could have been-s.’ Please, if you truly love me, you will not do that to yourself.”

It looked as if Lena would cry. But she held onto that British stiff upper lip, and was able to regain her composure.

“You know, I came here to try and talk about one thing, but ended up talking about something completely different,” she chuckled. “I didn’t want to fight you, you know?”

“Lena, you do not have to apologize. You needed this, whether you knew it or not.”

“And the heart gets what the heart wants, doesn’t it?”

Lena was quiet for a long time. Amélie let her be as quiet as she wanted.

“I guess I should congratulate you, then,” Lena said. “Not every day someone asks you to marry them.”

“You do not have to if you do not want to. I know this is painful for you.”

“No, I have to. So congrats.”

Amélie could feel the tears come. She thought she’d be the one to hold everything together.

“I…I just want…can I say one last thing?” Lena asked.

“Anything for you.”

“Would there ever be a chance for us…?”

“Maybe in another life, ma chérie.”


	16. Along Came a Spider

**Present**

 

An alarm buzzed, and Widow was quick to slap it off. I was always loathe to get up; I was never a morning person, or one who needed a single alarm to wake me. But Talon needed a soldier who was easy to wake up; they had changed that for Widow when they made her.

The alarm was a simple smartwatch. It buzzed for one second, and Widow was awake. That meant that I was awake, too.

That meant that I had to see another life be taken.

Widow had fallen asleep in a plenum space of an office building, shifting her weight haphazardly over several thin metal bars that held the dropped ceiling in place. The office building was closed for the weekend, so any noise she made went unheard.

Mon Dieu, please, someone had to hear her, someone has to stop her. A janitor, a man trying to climb the ladder and impress his bosses by working on the weekend, someone who could have called the police. I cannot stand to see this again.

Widow pressed a button on the smartwatch. There was a gentle click as the receiver in her ear activated. It was a surgical implant, with no wires running to or from it.

“Widowmaker, in position,” she said.

_Have you been spotted?_ A Talon man said.

“Negative, cover still holds.”

_Excellent. Target is scheduled to approach the killzone within ten mikes._

“Roger. Out.”

Widow killed the line, and gently brought her rifle to her shoulder.

Why did they do this to me? Why would they even _want_ to do this to me? I used to be Amélie, but they went and broke me, strapped me to a Chair, hooked me up to computers and blasted me from my own brain, turned me into some kind of monster. I used to be alone in my head, but now this damned Widow is in control. They turned me into some kind of unconscious voice in my own head.

Earlier in the evening, Widow had taken a small drill to the wall, large enough for her rifle barrel to poke through. She kept the barrel in the building, though; I may not be Widow, but I had all the knowledge of shooting that she did. If she poked the barrel through the wall, it would stick out the building. Someone might spot it.

I wished she would. I wished she would slip up. I couldn’t stand to see what happened next.

The building she was in was a simple office building. But the building next door was a UN embassy. And Talon wanted a man dead.

Widow waited. She was more patient than I could have ever been. But I knew that the man was coming, the man she was programmed to kill. She activated her recon visor, seeing through the wall of the building.

I begged her; you don’t have to do this.

Widow ground her teeth. She was annoyed with me.

There were cars that drove by the road, but only one that stopped in front of the UN building. One that matched the picture that Widow had memorized.

A door was opened, and Widow’s heart started beating a little faster. I could feel the trigger under her finger. It was set to a very light weight, requiring little to no effort to squeeze, but she was at the dead zone; trigger pulled, but not tripped.

Please, you cannot.

“Tais-toi, Amélie,” Widow barked.

A figure stepped out of the car. It was a woman, not the target.

He has a wife! His wife is with him!

Widow’s finger lifted from the trigger. In the visor, we could see the woman, his wife, kiss him on the cheek.

The memory hits me. It might even get to Widow.

 

* * *

 

_“I hereby pronounce you, man and wife,” the priest said. “You may now kiss the bride.”_

_Gérard lifts the veil from my face. I love him so much._

_“The first of many,” he promises me with a smile, and then he finally kisses me._

 

* * *

 

It does get to Widow. She grits her teeth; I can feel the programmed hatred burning in her. To get her to kill Gérard, to overcome my love of him, they made Widow hate him; her hate was blind, violent, and passionate. The perfect counter to my love.

Please, you cannot, not with his wife there. Je t'en prie, don’t.

Widow paused. I got her to pause.

The man and his wife are flanked by security men. They are walked towards the UN building. The door opened, and he was welcomed in.

He is safe.

The rifle cracks, and the man’s head snaps, spraying blood, brains and skull fragments. His body hits the ground just as his wife screams bloody murder.

Talon was thorough in their mental reconditioning of me. They burned out anything and everything that made me me, that made me a person, and replaced it with everything that was needed to make me a killing machine, to make Widow.

They burned out my ability to feel happiness, sadness and disgust. They re-built my body to use less oxygen, for my heart to beat slower. They re-wired my brain so the only pleasure I felt was the joy of a kill.

Widow laughs. I laugh. It was a beautiful shot.

I try to hate myself for it, but Talon has taken that from me, too.

Widow breaks through the drop ceiling. There is no one in the building, she has made sure of it. She runs for the evacuation zone, where the Talon get-away car will be waiting for her. We are both laughing at the kill; it has sent electricity through our shared body, exciting us beyond anything Widow had ever felt, or that I had experienced.

Oh mon Diue, please stop this.


	17. Along Came a Spider

Talon likes their buildings very well lit. The lights are bright and nearly blinding to my enhanced eyesight. I find it annoying, verging on painful, but Widow is used to it. To her, she was born here, molded into what she is now.

Talon intelligence agents lead Widow to a room, and waiting for us is the Reaper, dressed from head to toe in black, with a stark white mask. Part of me knows that I should be scared of such a man, but fear is yet another part of me that Talon had long burned away.

“Reaper,” Widow says.

“Widow,” Reaper says.

“It is not every day that you swing by here,” Widow said. “What is the occasion?”

“Overwatch,” he growls.

“Hm.” Widow had noticed that Reaper is cherishing his side. Talon has made her very observant. “So that is why you have that limp, non? Has that little plan to attack Winston and steal the whereabouts of their agents gone awry?”

“It was dumb luck,” Reaper says. He doesn’t talk fast, but both of us know that the loss chaffs at him.

“Really?” Widow smiles.

“Yes. Now be quiet. We have a new goal.”

“’We’ as in you or me, or…?”

“ _Talon_ has a new goal,” Reaper snarls. “Winston has recalled Overwatch.”

This catches my attention. Not just Widow’s, but mine.

“Well, this makes our job easier, non?” Widow says. “If Overwatch recalls all their agents, it puts them in one nice little basket. And that is if the UN does not arrest them all for breaking the Petras Act.”

“It’s a chance we cannot take,” Reaper says.

“Does this mean we will be going hero hunting?” Widow grins.

“Yes, it does.”

“So, what is our next target?” She asks, breathing heavily. She enjoys this.

“First, we wait. See who answers the call,” Reaper says. “Then we plan the trap.”

 

* * *

 

_The bullets hits us in the face, but the recon visor is able to deflect it; it does not break our skin, but it hurts like hell._

_Rage is one of the few emotions that Talon let me keep, and Widow is awash in it. She grinds my teeth, and brings her rifle to bear._

_I can see Ana in the scope, her eyes wide in shock. She has seen me._

_Oh, Ana, why could you not have killed me?_

_The bullet punches through the scope, hitting her in the eye. Blood sprays behind her, and she falls to the ground._

_The sense of joy and satisfaction is amplified by the pain._

_“No one escapes from the huntress,” Widow spits._

 

* * *

 

The memory of killing Ana keeps Widow and I feeling alive. She thinks about it as she goes to sleep in her assigned room, and it pleasures her. I feel everything she feels, and I try to hate myself for it, but Talon has made sure that I cannot hate myself.

Finally, she is asleep, and the nightmare is paused. I can only truly be myself when Widow is asleep. But for all the good it will do me, I still cannot take back my body. Talon is too smart to even allow for such a possibility to happen. The most I can do is peer into her dreams, but I learned long ago that she only dreams of her kills. That is all she does; she lays perfectly still, and dreams of killing.

I took a quick peek into her sleeping mind. With us sharing the same head, it was easy. The only thing I could see was of the woman becoming a new widow, of the blood and brains that stained her clothes.

I retreat, recoiling from her mind. Such hate…

But here, in my subconscious, I am myself. That means that no one else has to die; at least today. I am trapped in my mind, with only my memories to keep me company, but I will take the boredom over the killing any day.

I try not to think about how Talon and Widow are slowly squeezing me out. A head can only hold so many minds, and their effort to erase me has not ended. It will only continue. I have already lost so many memories to Widow; I cannot remember most of my schooling, traveling for college, and the early years of Overwatch.

At least, I think I do not. There are massive gaps in my head of what I can only assume were memories of a certain time. I go from a little girl to a young adult; I was missing the teenage years of my life. They must have taken that from me.

If you take away a person’s memory, you take away their sense of self. Soon, all my memories would be gone, and there will be very little making me Amélie.

But of course, I can still remember killing Gérard, either because it was Widow’s first kill, or some sick prank that Talon likes to use on me.

I try to remember what I can, to see how much of me is gone.

 

* * *

 

_The attic looms ahead of me. There is a dress in there, a pretty dress for fancy occasions. They should be kept there until they are needed, but I am a little girl, and I want it._

_I push the door to the attic open, and cough from the dust. Sunlight streamed in through the window, leaving wide beams that I could dance through. And dance through them I did. The eeriness never registered to me back then. It was there, in the back of my mind, but that dress was so pretty, and I wanted it._

_The armoire loomed over me, and I pulled open the heavy doors. There, hanging amongst the other cloths, was the dress. It was a royal blue with lace on the cuffs, hem and neckline. I pulled it down and held it up to me._

_It was just so pretty._

_Something brushed my arm. Little me unconsciously tried to shake it off. But the strange brushing feeling stayed with me. Then there was something on my neck, one on my other arm, there were strange brushing feelings all over me._

_I looked at my arm, and a giant spider was crawling over me._

_Little me shrieked and flung the dress away, trying to shake the spider free. But it held tight. I looked to my other arm, and there were two spiders clinging to me. I screamed louder, swatting at the damned things. Something tickled my ear, and I was thrashing, trying to get the spiders off me._

_But they clung on._

* * *

My parents found me trying to swat myself to death. Of course, Talon had burned the fear clean from my head; the memory meant nothing to me now.

But it was my memory. Not Widow’s, but mine. It also meant that I was a girl, a real person. I tried to think back to Gérard, just to see if I still remembered when I met him.

Blinding hatred filled me. Hatred implanted by Talon. They knew the only way for me to kill him would be to make me hate him, to turn that deep love into savage hate. It turned him from my husband, to my target, to Widow’s first victim.

Talon has taken everything from me. They took my love, and then his life. They were taking my memories, the very essence of my being, and soon they would have all of me.

Even if I could be scared, such a prospect had not bothered me in such a long time. It was a slow death, one that I knew was coming. It was simply a way of life for me now.

My thoughts drifted, and I ended up thinking back to when I first met that pretty little British girl with the brown hair.

The hate in my heart lifted.

Talon had taken everything from me. I only had hate, and the pleasure of killing. But this feeling was different.

What made that happen? I dug through my memory, looking for the feeling.

 

* * *

 

_The sun is shining down from the skies. There are no clouds, but the wind is keeping the day from becoming too hot. I am wearing a sun dress, walking by men and women in dress uniforms. They are the men and women of Overwatch, and they seem to be part of the ceremony opening another Overwatch station in Paris._

_I have a basket in my hands. I’m shopping. At least I was, until I saw the Overwatch men and women gathering. They are heroes, fighting the Omnic Crisis, and have only recently thrown the Omnics out of Paris. The Eiffel Tower is still badly battered, but it stands on._

_“Excuse me.”_

_I turn. A pretty little woman is walking up to me. Her French is good, far better than most visitors. I can tell from her accent that she is foreign. The badge on her uniform shows her a British._

_“I was wondering…I’m a little lost,” she says meekly. “I’m supposed to meet with some friends at a little café. I’m running late.”_

_“Oh, of course,” I smile. The pretty little thing seems to light up. “What is the café’s name?”_

_“Le Petit Soleil.”_

_“You’ve passed it. It is the one on the corner there,” I say, pointing behind her._

_“Oh, it can’t be! I’ve walked passed that a million times!” The woman groans. “I’ve even peered in, looking for them, but they’re not there.”_

_“Perhaps your friends got the name wrong.”_

_“More like they ditched me for the ‘local flavor,’ if you get my drift,” she sighs._

_“Well, the Omnics_ were _just thrown out.”_

_“Yea, but still.” The woman looks at me, trying to say something. “If I’m not interrupting, maybe I can get you something to thank you for your time? A drink, maybe?”_

_“If there is anyone who should be buying a drink, it should be me,” I laugh. “To show my appreciation for saving my city and country.”_

_“Too early for the country, love. Omnics still control most of the east. But I’ll drink to the city. My name is Lena.”_

_“Amélie.”_

 

* * *

 

My mind is reeling. I remembered everything about that day. The warm rays of the sun, the cheers of the crowd, the men and women kissing in the street, and the loveliness of Lena.

But above all, I felt the affection, the love. I felt the warm feeling well from my heart. I felt something other than hate and the kill-pleasure.

How could this happen? Talon took everything from me. They molded me into Widow, a heartless killer.

Non, not heartless. Ruthless, but not heartless. She and I still felt joy. It was only when we killed a person, but it was joy. Her passion was death, and they made her seek it out. Each hunt brought her joy, and by extension, to me as well.

They did not take away my love. They tainted my love of Gérard with blind hate, but they never truly stopped me from loving.

Mother was right; there _was_ too much love in me. Too much love for one person, too much for Talon to simply erase. They could not take away my love for Lena. But why did they forget that, forget her? They _had_ to know about us. Did they forget about her? Was Gérard their only target? Was Lena not as big of a target? Did they not care about her? Did they think if they made me hate Gérard, I would simply hate Lena as well?

It did not matter. Talon did not take away my love for Lena, and as Reaper said, they would soon be looking for Overwatch, and with them, Lena.

I tingled with joy. I was hunting, and my prey was Widow herself.

I had my weapon to stop her.


	18. Along Came a Spider

_All units, leave the package unattended,_ Widow said on the radio.

“Now let us see the girl fall for the trap,” Widow whispered to herself. Or was she talking to me?

Overwatch was back, and in the weeks since they were reformed, the UN did not arrest them. It helped that Russia withdrew their support from the Petras Act, but miracles like that could not be counted on.

Lena was stalking us for information, just as our scouts had reported. We were to give her an opening, a piece of dummy intelligence, something she would never be able to turn down.

And when she grabbed the briefcase, we will attack her. We will pin her down, draw out more Overwatch agents, and then the real killing would begin. It meant that my hunt for Widow would start.

_Package in the open,_ the Talon men said. _All units in position._

Widow’s heart beat slow and steady. But I was nervous. I had spent weeks combing my memories, finding any memory that had Lena in it. And of course, I was waiting. Waiting for the perfect opportunity. This was it.

We were in southern France, a short flight from Watch Point Gibraltar. That just meant that Overwatch would be quicker to arrive.

A blue blur zipped through the streets. Widow tracked it, but kept her finger from the trigger.

Lena.

_Bait is taken,_ she said. _Open up on her_.

Gunfire broke out, but the Talon men were attempting to suppress Lena, not kill her.

As usual, Lena played with fire. She flittered from cover to cover, her time displacement powers keeping her just ahead of the bullets.

_Pin her down,_ Widow said. She waited patiently for more Overwatch members to arrive.

_She’s sounded the alarm,_ one Talon man said. _Got a burst of radio traffic over known Overwatch frequencies. She’s calling for help._

_Excellent. Keep her pinned as much as possible; when backup arrives, give them a warm welcome._

Widow shifted her weight in the tower she was positioned in. She kept track of where Lena was running, ready to move when necessary.

But Lena was playing into Widow’s, and Talon’s, hands. She ended up pinned in a little shack in the middle of a small square; the perfect killing ground.

She fought back, peppering Talon men with her pistols. But she was waiting for backup, as were we.

Soon, a ship flew in. It landed blocks away.

_Overwatch ship landed,_ a Talon man said.

_Roll out the welcome mat,_ Widow grinned.

Now they were looking to kill. That meant that Lena was in true danger from Widow.

That meant it was time for me to hunt.

Widow scanned the building, looking for Lena. She found her, leaning out of the window, trying to gun down a Talon operative.

The crosshair danced over her head. Widow held her breath, and her finger touched the trigger.

I pushed the memory to the very forefront of my mind, giving it to Widow. If I had a body, if I had a voice, I would be screaming this memory.

 

* * *

 

_“Amélie!”_

_I had not even been in the bar for a second and Lena was already calling out to me. I saw her almost bouncing at the bar; she had ordered one of those bitter British beers she loved, but had a nice glass of white wine waiting for me._

_“Have you missed me?” I asked, walking over to her._

_“’Course I have, love!”_

_“Mon Diue, it was only been three days since our last date.”_

_“Three days too many,” she laughed, raising her glass. I cheered her, and sipped at the wine. Her smiled had faltered, but only a little._

_“Something is wrong,” I said._

_“How can you tell?”_

_“My intuition,” I smiled. “It is written on your face.”_

_“Damn, you’re good,” Lena smiled. “Overwatch is calling us out. The Crisis is moving, so we move with it.”_

_“You are going away?”_

_“Part of being in Overwatch, love. Gotta jump when they say jump.”_

_The three months we spent together had been more than incredible. I looked at her, and I could feel my heart swell._

_“Is there any chance that I could come with you?” I asked._

_“Come with? Amélie, we’re going to war!”_

_“I am French, and we are a passionate people,” I smiled. “I do not think I could simply let the woman I love leave me.”_

_Lena immediately blushes a deep and heavy red._

_“Y-you’re not just sayin’ that because Gérard and I are leaving?”_

_I gently pull her close and kiss her deeply._

_“Does that feel like a kiss of convenience, ma chérie?” I smile. Poor little Lena is ready to totter out of her chair._

 

* * *

 

Widow squeezes the trigger too hard, too fast. The jerk pulled the rifle from its target, and the shot went wide. It hits the wooden frame by Lena’s head; she yelps and jumps back to cover.

Widow is panting, gasping for breath. Her heart, normally so calm and steady, is beating like a jackrabbit.

“Q-Que se…?!”

She saw the memory! She felt it! My weapon worked! My love is still mine!

Widow tries to calm herself, to get her breathing and heart back under control. The battle is unfolding; she can see Overwatch agents moving in. She forces herself to look back into the scope.

On the ground, Lena is looking for the sniper. She looks up, and sees Widow.

Her eyes go wide; she recognizes me.

Through the scope, Widow can see her face.

I have another memory. I push it to her, scream it in my mind, and hope that Widow can see it as well.

 

* * *

 

_We are outside the bar, standing in the entrance of a small ally._

_I have Lena, beautiful little Lena, against the wall. Her arms are wrapped around me, holding me deep._

_Our lips are locked, neither of us willing to let go. Every nerve is on fire, tingling with invisible electricity._

_My love has lead me to this amazing woman._

_She gently pushes me away. She breaks our kiss._

_“I-I have to come clean with you,” she says._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Remember when me met?” She asks. “About the café that I was trying to find? The one my friends stood me up at?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Well…they didn’t really stand me up,” she mumbled, blushing. “I just wanted to talk to you, see if I could get your name and number, maybe a drink. I saw you, and I had to try. So I asked them to help me out; they ran from the café and hid.”_

_I couldn’t help but laugh._

_“What? What’s so funny?”_

_“I am glad you needed to talk to me,” I said. “Do I need any other reason?”_

 

* * *

 

Widow is completely unprepared for my assault.

The memory makes our heart jump again, and her shot goes absolutely wild. Lena teleports away from the window, and Widow is left standing there, gasping for breath. Our fingers, our toes, everything is tingling; the memory of our kiss is powerful, powerful enough to stop Widow. Her rifle rattles in her hand.

The men and women of Overwatch arrive, just in time to rescue Lena. A woman is flying in the skies on a jet pack, shooting rockets. An old man with silver hair runs to Lena, grabbing the briefcase with dummy intelligence.

Down below, a large pink-haired woman with a canon shreds troops, and a little woman with brown hair starts a blizzard.

Mei? Is that Mei? She looks so young still.

_A-all units, maintain pressure on target,_ Widow stammers. _She is a slippery little bitch._

But Overwatch is pulling back. They have Lena, they have the bait, and they are getting away.

_We can’t!_ A Talon man said. _They’re too much for us! We’ve lost squads two, four, five and seven!_

Widow grinds her teeth.

_All units, fall back,_ she says. _We need to regroup._

I cannot feel joy; Talon took that from me. The only joy I can truly feel is when Widow kills someone.

But I am feeling love, _my_ love, and Widow is feeling it with me. That is enough.


	19. Along Came a Spider

“This is a goddamn embarrassment,” Reaper snarled.

The room was filled with the Talon team leaders, as well as Reaper. He speaks to everyone, but looks at Widow. Our heart was pounding in our chest, and not just from being yelled at.

“We knew Tracer was shadowing us,” he snarled in that deep, broken voice of his. “We knew where she was. We fed her all the information we knew would draw her out. We had killzones planned and laid out. This. Was. Easy.”

Widow felt Reaper’s gaze bore into her. Even through the mask, it did not save her.

“So…what happened?” Reaper demanded.

“My target saw me,” Widow said.

“You know better than to let yourself be spotted,” Reaper yelled. “How did she see you?”

“If I knew that, I would have fixed it,” she snarled back. “She got lucky. That is all, oui?”

“’Non,’” Reaper snapped. “It’s not that simple. So, what happened?”

“It, it was that damn teleporter,” she had. “I could not draw a bead. She would be in one place, then jump to another. It…was aggravating.”

I never felt Widow lie before. She was scared, scared that Reaper would find out, scared of something else. I did not know Widow could feel fear. No, it is not fear, but anxiety. Dread, even.

And it was not Reaper she was worried of, but instead, it was two things.

The first was an image, floating in her mind and filtered down to me. It was of a Chair, with worn leather straps for the wrist and ankles. It had a high back, and a headrest, with thicker leather straps to bind one’s head in place. Cables trailed from it, going from the headrest to a bank of computers.

All the while, a single word echoed through her brain: ‘Treatment.’

I knew that Chair too well. It was the Chair that Talon used to erase me, to turn me into Widow. It was the Chair they used to train her, to re-program her, to make her this killing machine. It was the machine they used to break her and remold her.

And I knew the word. It was a conditioned word, a program buried deep into her brain to make her do whatever they wanted. One phrase, one mention of her Treatment, and Widow was helpless to it.

Maybe Talon took away our fear, but let her keep the feeling of dread to keep her in line. A dread of being rendered useless against the Treatment, and of being returned to the Chair, of being erased and remade.

Suddenly I felt sick to my stomach. Widow was scared of the Treatment, of the Chair. Both had made her, and could un-make her.

“You were briefed on her abilities,” Reaper said. “Why didn’t you compensate?”

“I am sorry, mon amie, are you a better shot than I?” She demanded. “Would you like to try and hit a teleporting target through a tiny window from across the square?”

Mon Dieu, if they could control us with a Treatment, send us back to the Chair…could they finally erase me? Could they finally delete all of my love?

Widow held Reaper’s glare, until Reaper grunted.

“Now you know how slippery she is,” he said. “Next time, I expect you to be better. Otherwise, it’s time for your Treatment, and we’ll make you into someone who’s halfway competent.”

The dread hit Widow like lightning. The Chair loomed in her head, the Treatment already working to bring her to heel.

“Do not worry,” she said. It was an effort to keep her voice even. But she was picturing killing Lena in her head; it kept her focused. She held her hate deep in her chest. It was Lena that made her miss, and she was brimming with hate.

Fuck the Treatment and damn the Chair, that hatred had to change. I screamed another memory at her.

“The next time Tracer shows her face—“

 

* * *

 

_Lena’s hair smelt of strawberries. It felt like silk in my hands, like the silk of the sheets of the bed I laid on. I felt each strand on my hands as I moved her down, off my breasts, and guided her further down._

 

* * *

 

“—Uh, i-it, it will be her last.”

Widow’s heart is racing again, and the electricity is dancing on her nerves, so different from the thrill of a kill, so much more intimate and pleasurable.

It was one of my favorite memories of Lena. I knew Widow would like it.

“Cat got your tongue?” Reaper chuckled. He had caught her pause from the memory.

With my new, cold blooded body, I did not know how well Widow would blush. But it felt like she was burning up.

“I have never missed a target,” Widow snapped. “Never before.”

“Get used to it. Tracer is not going to present herself to you like anyone else. She will know you’re coming; act accordingly.”

“Sir,” Widow said, doing her best to breath easily. 

“With Overwatch back, they will need to secure supplies. We have a lead; they’re set to receive a shipment of arms from sympathetic merchants. They will be stopped. We move out tomorrow; the faster we nip them in the bud, the faster we can resume normal operations. Mission briefing in the morning. Dismissed.”

Widow is first up and out the door, gripping her rifle with white knuckles. She is flushed, but I was sure no one could tell it with her blue skin. She holds herself tall, her face deadly serious. The Talon men can tell her pride is hurt, and give her a wide berth.

She storms through the base, passing Talon men and women, not just field mercenaries but also intelligence agents and scientists. She makes a bee-line to her room, and once she is in the little room, she locks the door.

She collapses against the door, her hands shaking.

The memories of Lena are swimming through her head, but the Chair looms over them all.

If I am to stop her, I will need to overcome that Chair. I cannot help but smile to myself; I have too much love, and many more memories to fight the Chair.

Widow sits there, barely moving. I can feel her mind race; she is thinking of the mission. She is thinking of the memory I pushed to her, of the feeling it gave to her.

It was a hell of a time and a place to first feel love.

I stay out of her head, keeping my memories to myself. I have to let her dwell on the memories I gave her. I could not give her a scare, I could not draw any more attention to me. She had to think it was her that was remembering this, not just me.

I can see her own memory of the fight drift through our head. The scope drifts, and the crosshairs fall on Lena’s face. Then, out of nowhere, the memory blindsides her. Suddenly, Lena isn’t just a target, she is a face. A beautiful, radiant face that carries a strange feeling, a feeling she had never felt before.

Hissing, Widow gets to her feet.

“This is…connerie,” she spits. “This little bitch is my target.”

She leaves her room, cradling her rifle. I know where she is going, I know what she plans to do.

Minutes later, we are in the gun range. She grabs an armful of ammunition and drops it at a stall. She taps at the hologram projector, and creates dozens of targets with Lena’s face on them. They pop up, floating in air, and she swings her rifle around.

Each face floats in the scope, and she pulls the trigger. The holograms flash as the bullets pass through them, marking them as kill shots.

Her hands are shaking. And I am not doing anything.

She is remembering the love I felt for her, and if there is any justice in the world, she is feeling it herself.

Her rifle clicks on empty, and she grabs the next clip, sliding it home with practiced ease. She goes back to the targets. Her eyes are wet, and she tries to blink away the tears.

We are down there for what feels like hours. Eventually, Widow’s rifle feels too heavy in her hands; she had been holding it at the ready for so long, our arms are dead tired. She is breathing heavy, but her heart races for another reason.

The holographic target computer spits out a piece of paper with her results.

Her accuracy is 68%. I’ve never seen it lower than 91%.

She shreds the paper, swallowing the pieces, and taps at the terminal, purging the score from the computer’s memory. No one would know about this. 

“I can kill this bitch,” she says to herself. Even I can tell she is trying to convince herself she can.

 

* * *

 

_The street sign is high off the ground. It isn’t even a street sign, it’s a plaque, a big, round, blue plaque. It takes my breath away._

_221b Baker St._

_“How can you live with this so close to you?” I ask. “I would walk by this every day.”_

_“You never get tired of walking passed it, love,” Lena says._

_“First the book,” I look at the thick-bound book in her hands, the one with a gold embossed picture of the famous detective on the cover, “and then I get to see where the legend actually lived.”_

_“Pretty nice day, won’t you say?”_

_I take Lena’s hand as they walk down the street._

_“With you, it’s always a nice day.”_

 

* * *

 

I don’t know if the memory reaches Widow. With her asleep, it is hard to tell. But I can tell that, for once, she is at peace. Her heart beats slow and steady, and she is utterly relaxed, so different from any other night before a mission. Normally she is tense, dreaming of the kill and the thrill that Talon programmed into her, sleeping deep and still; she never moves.

And then, for the first time that I can remember, she rolls in her sleep.


	20. Along Came a Spider

The Talon ship flew through the air, skimming the waters of the Mediterranean. We were low, low enough to avoid radar. Low enough to reach out and touch the warm waters. The ship, our prey, was coming in to a port in Italy, a sympathetic nation. They wanted Overwatch back; that meant they were helping to arm them. Widow could see the Overwatch planes; Talon had enhanced her eye sight to make her a better killer.

Massive metal shipping containers were piled high, ready to be unloaded, their goods transferred to the Overwatch ships that were landed. The shipping containers were big, meaning they would block line of sight, but also would give a shooter a commanding field of view if one were to stand on top of them.

“Pick your targets,” Reaper said from the front of the ship. Much like the Overwatch ships, the Talon ships were VTOL; they could land vertically, making them much better suited for assaults.

It was another reason why Blackwatch had failed; too little oversight.

“We kill as many Overwatch operatives as we can, but the cargo containers are the target. No one kill Morrison; he’s mine.”

Widow’s heart beat faster; Lena was out there.

The ship banked sharply, making a bee-line to the port. The Talon men readied their weapons.

“Ground in ten.”

The ship was flying in so low, it threatened to crash into the waves. But Widow was more worried about Tracer than crashing.

At the last second, it rose up, barely avoiding a crash into the concrete docks. It landed, and Widow jumped out first, landing on top of a container. Forty meters away, she could see the gathered Overwatch agents; they were meeting with Italian politicians, no doubt posing for photos.

She could see a man with silver hair pulling a VIP to safety. A massive, pink haired woman was bringing an equally massive canon to bear. A woman in a rocket suit was boosting, flying into the air.

But above all, Lena was there, popping into and out of existence in a blue streak.

She shot her grappling hook, aiming for a stack of four containers.

“Eyes are in the sky,” she said, zipping to position. “I have a bead on Tracer.”

_Move, Talon,_ Reaper snapped on the radio.  _Prep demo charges, Overwatch will not get those shipments one way or another._

Gunfire exploded; the battle was on. Now it was my turn.

 

* * *

 

_The book store is quiet, and surprisingly full. With the Crisis in full swing, many people were there to escape from reality._

_I looked up from her book. Lena was in a large, leather chair, leaning over the back, and staring at me._

_‘What?’ I mouthed._

_‘You’re beautiful,’ Lena mouthed back._

_The smell of old books and musty pages filled the air. I had heard Lena say it a million times, but with the warm smell of books, it seemed much more intimate._

_My mother’s words danced through my head._

You are so full of love, it cannot be contained to one person.

_My mind drifted to--_

 

* * *

 

I have to concentrate to stop the memory. We had a fight when we left the store; Gérard had called me, and asked me to another date. I loved them both so much…

If Talon’s conditioning held true, then _any_ thought of Gérard would make Widow burn with hatred. They did not take my love of Gérard; they poisoned it. I could not have that poison seep over to Lena.

Widow did not seem to mind, or even know that something happened. I could feel my warm love spreading through her as she brought her rifle to bear.

She could see Lena running through the rows of containers, winking into and out of existence. She jumped onto one container, then saw Widow.

Her face filled the scope. I knew that Widow had her dead to rights.

The trigger to her rifle was dialed to one-point-six kilograms; all it took was a simple twitch to end her life. But suddenly, the trigger felt as if it was made of pure, solid iron.

Widow couldn’t pull the trigger. My love was filling her.

I was winning.

The scope jerked and the rifle cracked; the shot zoomed over Lena’s head. Widow had missed, intentionally.

Lena wasted no time; she teleported across the containers, making a bee-line to her. She returned fire with her automatic pistols, but the shots weren’t aimed anywhere near Widow. They were both intentionally missing each other.

_Widowmaker here, I am under fire,_ Widow said on the radio. _Relocating._

She jumped from the top of the container to the lower level, out of sight of Lena. Not that it would last long.

Sure enough, Tracer popped into existence at the top of the container, and gave chase. Widow’s rifle switched to automatic mode, and she laid down suppressive fire, just until she could get behind another container. We could both hear the popping of Lena’s teleporting, and the staccato pops of her guns as she circled the container.

“Your aim is sloppy,” Widow laughed as a burst flew over her head.

“Well, you sure ain’t aimin’ at me either, love!”

“’Love?’ You think you know me, ma chérie?”

The gunfire stopped. Lena stopped. Neither of us could hear her step, or her teleport. The only sounds that could be heard were the distant gunfire.

“A-Amélie?”

Hate flared in Widow. No, not hate, but annoyance. 

“Amélie is dead,” she spat. “I am Widow, ‘love.’”

Feet echoed on metal; Lena was approaching. Widow used the grappling hook to jump to a higher level, avoiding her.

“You sure about that? You called ‘me chérie.’”

Lena followed Widow. There was a popping sound, meaning she teleported. But Widow had already jumped from the container, putting more distance between her. The grappling hook broke her fall, and she quietly ran through the containers.

Widow did not want to fight. Widow was running from her. My love was still winning.

“That does not change anything, chérie. You are my prey. And I get my prey.”

“Aw, I’m flattered. You sure you can catch me, love?”

“More sure than you know, chérie.”

Widow jumped to a higher level with her grappling hook. Lena was hot on our trail, we could feel it. We could feel her eyes drilling into our back. She was closing in on us.

Widow dashed across a few containers, then jumped down a level. Soon, Lena was lost, unable to follow us. Widow quietly climbed to a higher level, and began looking for her with her recon visor.

A massive explosion echoed through the port.

_Objective complete,_ Reaper said on the radio. _All units, fall back._

“It looks like our little jaunt is coming to a close, chérie,” Widow laughed. She was a level above Lena, easily tracking her with the visor. She waited until she was just above her before launching a venom mine behind her.

The mine exploded, and Lena immediately began coughing, utterly disoriented.

“L’araignée has her eyes out for you, ma chérie. Watch yourself.”

Widow broke towards the Talon ship. The ship rose in the air; she was the last one. She fired her grappling hook, catching the ship and pulling herself on board.

“Any luck with Tracer?” Reaper asked.

“Oui,” Widow said. “I am getting better at tracking her.”

She looked over Reaper. Bullet holes had punched through his cloak, but his armor held true. No blood seeped out.

“It looks like you had as much fun as I did,” she bluffed. “Tell me, were you able to kill anyone?”

“That pink-haired Russian can make barriers,” Reaper spat. “If it wasn’t for her, Morrison would be mine.”

“Then we both learned something.”

Reaper grunted.

Widow looked out the back of the plane. She knew she could not see Tracer, but she looked out longingly enough.

I am winning.


	21. Along Came a Spider

Widow gently turns over in her sleep. It means that she must be having a good dream. It means that I am still winning.

I must be breaking Talon’s conditioning; I can actually feel happiness, or something close to it. Non, it makes sense. I am taking away her hatred and turning it to love, taking her drive to kill and replacing it with my passion.

I could not help myself; I had to know what Widow was dreaming about. Normally, I could not peak into her mind; she only dreamed of death.

But this time, there was no death.

 

* * *

 

_The wind is blowing, not just a simple gust but a near gale. It is blowing so hard the clouds are flying passed us. They go from one end of the horizon to the other in a matter of minutes, but there is not a smell of rain. If anything, it is drier than normal. Dry, warm, and windy. It is so windy, we can even see the Eiffel Tower gently sway._

_I am screaming, not from fear or shock, but a laughing scream. Lena has her hands wrapped around mine, and we are both practically being pulled across the green fields of the Champ de Mars._

_We are both holding on for dear life to the kite that Lena brought. It is a large kite, nearly a meter across. It is made from some tough, heavy kind of plastic, and it is holding its shape in the wind. Because it is not bending or breaking, it is catching the wind, and threatening to pull us into the sky with it._

_“Lena, please, let go,” I shout. It is hard to scream and laugh at the same time, but somehow, I find way to do it._

_“Can’t let go, love! It’s gettin’ to the good part!”_

_“What good part?”_

_“The part where we nearly fly away!”_

_“You are mad!”_

_Lena pushes my hands down, urging the kite higher into the sky. The kite soars, and the twine in my hand finally runs out. The spool threatens to tear itself away, but Lena and I hold onto it. The kite finally peaks, and our weight is able to keep us on the ground. The kite is in the sky, and appears perfectly still against the rapidly moving clouds._

_“See? Flying perfectly well there,” Lena laughs._

_“You damn Brit, you planned this, did you?”_

_“Got me there, love. Still can’t believe you never flew a kite before. What kind of childhood did you have?”_

_“According to you? The worst.”_

_Lena’s arms are wrapped around me. I ca not let go of the spool, or the kite, but I nestle myself against her._

 

* * *

 

I…I don’t remember that.

Lena and I never flew a kite. But Widow was remembering it. How could she know that when I never did that?

Where did she get that memory?

Non, she must have gotten it from me; it could not have simply appeared out of thin air. But if I could not remember giving her that memory, what did that mean?

It meant that Talon was still erasing me. It still meant that my mind was no longer becoming my own. I was being driven out.

For a moment, I panicked. Then I remembered: I was already a dead woman.

Talon took my body, took my mind, and was steadily driving me out of my own head. I already knew that my memories were being erased, it was only a matter of time until I vanished.

The memories…I was not just reliving them, I was giving them to Widow. That is what made her spare Lena’s life; it was my memories, and the love they carried.

If that is what it took to stop Widow, I would give her everything I had left.

 

* * *

 

Lena was running. Widow was watching her.

Talon was attacking Overwatch, but I could not remember for what. Something about Reaper wanting to go after Morrison. Reaper seemed obsessed with him.

Lena was laughing and jumping, popping into and out of places in a blue blur.

“Almost had me there, love!” She laughed.

She had such a pretty laugh. It sounded familiar, like I have heard it somewhere else.

“Stand still, ma chérie,” Widow chuckled. She was shooting, but I had the feeling that she was missing on purpose. Like this was a game, a dance that both of them wanted, and never wanted to end.

Something about this seemed familiar, like they have done it before. But I could not put my finger on it.

Another memory floated to my mind. Something told me I had to give it to Widow, so I did.

 

* * *

 

_Lena stood in the strange chamber. She tried to put a strange metal contraption on her chest, but when she was about to finish, she would mysteriously fade, and the contraption would fall to the ground._

_“Get back here, Lena,” Winston grumbled, making adjustments at a computer._

_…_

_“Please, you must get her back,” I begged._

_“I’m working as best I can,_ _Am_ _élie. Please, be patient,” Winston said. “We know_ where _she will be, I’m just working on the_ when _she’ll be.”_

_Finally, she popped back into existence, and she was able to put the strange device on._

_…_

_Winston pressed a button, and a blue light popped on, hovering at her sternum._

_“…How do you feel?”_

_“Had a touch of …, but things got better,” she said. “Whoa. My ears popped. Does that count?”_

_…_

_“Just some adjustments,” Winston said._

_I stood, wringing my hands. Lena stood there, waiting for something to happen. The minutes ticked by, but nothing happened._

_“I think we have something,” Winston said._

_She sat down, looking at me with those big, beautiful eyes of hers._

_“I’m still here, love,” she smiled. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”_

 

* * *

 

The memory skipped about, and ended abruptly. Parts of it were missing. I tried to remember more, tried to give more feeling to Widow, but she did not need it.

I could feel the love in her chest, the joy she felt at that memory. And, of course, the recoil of her gun.

“Come on, gotta try harder than that,” Lena said.

She was moving so fast, she did not see the venom mine that Widow left for her. It exploded in a green cloud, and Lena doubled over, coughing and sputtering. She was helpless.

“Right back at you, ma chérie,” Widow laughed.

Her radio squawked.

_Units, fall back. Mission is complete, withdraw immediately._

“Ah. Time to go.” She looked over at Lena, who was sprawled out on the ground. She blew her a kiss. “Until next time.”

 

* * *

 

Another strange day, another strange fight. Time seemed to move in fits and starts, like I was forgetting entire days or weeks.

Talon did not start the fight, Overwatch did. They were…oh, I knew what they wanted, but I just could not place it. It was on the tip of my tongue. Or was it my tongue? It never seemed to move when I wanted it to.

That strange, lovely brown-haired woman was teleporting everywhere. How did she do that? A pop, a blur, a laugh, and she was somewhere else.

I tried to follow her, track her movements…non, I could not move my arms. Someone was moving them for me. How was this strange, blue-skinned woman doing that?

The scene seemed to blur, like it was segments of a larger thing, but it was like I was sleeping through parts of it. How could I sleep through gunshots?

Whoever was controlling my body must be doing a good job. Bullets were flying, but none seemed to hit me. Then again, none of my bullets seemed to hit the strange woman.

I was glad of that. She was so pretty.

I, or whoever was controlling me, kicked down the door to a hotel. The strange woman was hot on our heels.

“Comin’ to get you, love!”

That made me smile. I dropped a strange little device on the ground and jumped into a room. Shots rang out, and I saw the little thing (was it a mine? The word seemed to float into my mind, but I could not figure out what it was) get blown to pieces. The beautiful brown-haired woman jumped into the room. The trap was sprung; the blue-skinned woman that controlled me jumped out, slamming into the brown-haired beauty, pinning her against the wall.

The pretty brown-haired woman was breathing deep. So was I. This fight, it was exhausting, but my heart was slamming in my chest. We were inches apart; I could feel her hot breath, smell her sweat, I could even feel the heat radiating from her. One of my hands held her wrists together, pinning them in place above her head.

“Got you,” I heard myself say. A tight smile was on my lips. I do not remember smiling.

“Well, you finally did,” the woman said. Her eyes were wide, as large as…as large as…what were they the size of? “Dead to rights.”

I realized that my gun was pushed against her stomach.

Please, do not kill her, I like her.

“Now you finally know who is better,” I could hear myself say.

“Then why ain’t you finishing this?” The pretty woman asked. “You could’ve killed me a dozen times over. So why not now?”

I could feel myself smiling.

“Do you not know? You keep your friends close…”

We were so close, but it caught me by surprise when the woman, when I, leaned forward to kiss her.

Our lips locked; hers were so full, so delicious…when I broke the kiss, I only wanted more.

“…and your enemies guessing.”

Footsteps rang out in the hallway.

“Tracer, sound off,” an old man barked. “Tracer!”

“Hmm. Until next time, ma chérie,” the strange woman who controlled my body said. We left the pretty woman, too stunned to move. I could feel my rifle be brought to bear. It shot out a window, and we leapt out, a grappling hook catching the building next to us.

As we swung away, I could see people moving into the room.

I would meet that woman again. I had to.

 

* * *

 

Morrison laid down suppressive fire from the window while Fareeha ran in.

“Lena! Are you alright?” Fareeha said.

“Y-yea, just shaken, that’s all,” Lena stammered.

“You’re all red; burning up,” Fareeha said. “Need Angela to take a look at you?”

“Na, I’ll be fine in a sec.”

“It’s a good thing we got here in time,” Morrison said, slapping a fresh magazine into his rifle. “Any slower, you might’ve had a bad day.”

“Damn shame,” Lena said. “Almost got her that time…”


	22. Along Came a Spider

The smart watch on my wrist buzzed its alarm, and I quickly slapped it off.

I got out of bed before realizing the room was too quiet. I stopped, but could not hear anything.

Talon never gave me anything outside of necessary items. A bed, a watch, clothes, my rifle, my visor. My rooms at their bases were always quiet. But something about this was…off. More quiet than normal.

“Salut?” I called.

No one answered. I expected that, but realized what had happened.

Amélie was finally gone.

Whenever I woke, I could hear her, in the back of my mind. Talking, pleading, praying to try and stop me from doing my job and taking lives. Even when she was quiet and not speaking to me, I could hear her, like she was moving around somewhere in the back of my mind. I would get bits and pieces of her, a memory here or a feeling there.

But now, she was gone.

Talon’s scientists told me they could not truly get rid of Amélie, not outright. There had to be pieces of her to take from, pieces that were used to make me. It made sense; why create a new personality, a new me, when you could take bits and pieces from someone else? They had taken from her, rearranged her to make me, but I always suspected they kept Amélie around to torture her.

They said it was only a matter of time until Amélie was gone, that she was fading fast. The memories became less frequent, the feelings more and more subdued, washed out, and her protests grew quieter and quieter. But to actually having her gone…it made me feel alone, truly alone.

I had never been truly alone. Even on deep cover missions, I could feel her in the back of my mind. For some reason, I hated this silence. I needed someone, and my mind immediately flashed to Lena.

The last few missions, I had stolen kisses. We had fought…non, we had gone through the motions, we danced. I would move, she would follow, then we would be alone, and then…

 I touched my lips, wanting to relive each moment we shared together, each flurry of passion in the middle of battle. She was so soft, so beautiful…

My watch buzzed again. The tiny display was flashing a reminder: I had a meeting to get to.

“Merde.”

I grabbed my rifle and recon visor and left my tiny room. Both the rifle and visor were the only true things Talon gave me; I never let them leave my side.

I made my way through the small base. We were hidden in a tiny fishing village in Greece, and I could smell cooking food waft into the base. I could smell fish…

 

* * *

 

_“Here ya go, love!”_

_Lena handed me a mess of paper. It was hot to the touch, and smelled so fresh I could barely make out the smell of fish; everything was fried batter._

_“So these are the famous ‘fish and chips’ I have always heard about,” I said._

_“Can’t have proper British food if ya don’t have fish an’ chips,” Lena smiled, holding her own greasy wrap of paper._

_I pulled apart the paper, and came face to face with five large breaded and fried pieces of fish, and warm fries by the dozen. It was a handful._

_“Come on, got to eat it while it’s still hot.”_

_I took a bite, and the cod practically exploded in my mouth. It smelled of heavy batter and grease, but tasted so fresh._

_“Mon Dieu!”_

_“Good, ain’t it?”_

_“It was not what I was expecting.”_

_“Want to know the best part?”_

_Lena pulled me close and kissed me._

_“Greasy kisses,” she smiled, licking her lips._

 

* * *

 

Another one of Amélie’s memories. I knew I should hate it; Talon programmed me to hate nearly everything about her, but the love she felt…the love that I was feeling…it was too powerful. It was intoxicating.

I had to have more. Maybe with the next mission, I could get her alone for more than a minute.

Finally, I arrived at the briefing room. Reaper was there, along with three Talon scientists. They even wore their clichéd white lab coats.

“Sit down,” Reaper growled.

“Where are the team leaders?” I asked.

“I said, sit down,” he snapped.

Talon conditioned me to obey superiors; not that I had much choice. I sat down.

“Eight sorties,” Reaper said. “Eight missions. All of them failures.”

“Mon Dieu, Reaper, we have achieved tactical objectives in more than half,” I sighed dramatically. It was the best way to get under Reaper’s skin.

“How many Overwatch soldiers have you killed?” He shot back.

Merde.

“In case you can’t count, let me fill you in,” he said. “Zero.”

“I still have the highest kill count in Talon.”

“For targets that don’t wear the Overwatch blue.”

I had to play it cool.

“That is because you make me go after Tracer,” I sighed. “You want me to go after the biggest challenge again and again…does it really surprise you that my numbers have dropped, non?”

“You haven’t even been trying.”

“Like how you have not been trying to kill Morrison?”

Reaper always wore his damn mask, but I knew he was glaring at me.

“Thought so.”

“I hurt Morrison,” he said. “I get hurt by him. You? You go out, you shoot a lot, but have nothing to show for it. Nothing. We can’t have that.”

“Are you speaking in the Royal We again?”

“Your lip isn’t helping. You’re going to the Chair.”

The word hit me like lightning.

“T-the Chair?” I could not keep the stammer from my voice. “Is that not taking things a little too far, non? Using a rocket to kill a mosquito?”

“Shut up,” Reaper snapped. “I’m sick and damn tired of your excuses and failings. We’re making you into someone who can do their damn job.”

“But I do not need the Chair. I know Tracer, know her fighting style.” I was pleading, my heart hammering. They were going to erase me, wipe me away! “Yes, she knows mine, but it is only a matter of time until she slips up—“

“Widowmaker, stop,” one of the scientists said. “It’s time for your Treatment.”

Damn those geeks.

They had programmed the response deep into my brain. All it took was that phrase, my ‘time for a Treatment,’ and my body rebelled, it danced to their tune.

I could feel the conditioned response slam into me like a dropped sandbag. I was told it was the first imprint Talon gave me, and by far, the strongest. My heart slowed, my mind turned to mush; I could only obey.

“Oui, a Treatment sounds lovely,” I could hear myself say.

Under the influence of the Treatment, a scientist took my and pulled me up; I lethargically followed along. One scientist took my rifle and visor, another took my hand and guided me to the door.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you back in top shape,” Reaper said. I glared at him as best I could; I hated the smug sound of his voice.

The scientists took me from the room, led me down the hall. We were going to the Chair.

They would take everything from me. They would take Lena.

Hatred bubbled in me. I could not let them take Lena from me. But I couldn’t break the Treatment’s hold on me; it held me fast, kept me from moving or properly thinking. It put me to sleep. I needed something to wake me up.

I needed to remember Lena. I needed to feel Amélie’s love.

 

* * *

 

_The holo-TV was playing a movie. Neither Lena nor I much cared for it; it was noise._

_Lena looked at me with those beautiful eyes of hers._

_I knew that look, and I knew I had to have her._

_I pulled her in close, smelling her before kissing her and bringing her close as our lips touched…_

 

* * *

 

The memory was hot in my mind. My heart picked up, racing from the steamy memory. I could feel the Treatment lessening. Suddenly, I could move by myself. Amélie’s love was so much stronger than the Treatment. 

Think, damn you, think! We were heading to the Chair, and I needed to escape. The doors in the base were set to lock automatically; you needed an RFID tag to unlock the doors and move about freely.

They never gave me a tag. I was always herded around, given the barest of privileges. The only thing they gave me was a tracking device in my forearm.

I could not steal a key; Talon implanted its operatives with RFID tags in their hands, and I did not have anything to cut a hand off. Not within a few minutes, anyways. Once I found a way to escape the Chair, I would have at most a minute to make as much headway as possible.

We walked by a row of desks where more operatives worked. What they worked on, I did not know. But I saw something that could help me.

As we walked by one man, I reached out and grabbed a small, clear tape dispenser. With me under the influence of the Treatment and suitably in tow, the scientist no longer needed to hold my hand, so I was able to use both hands and pull a length of tape.

We walked towards a door, and the second scientist opened it. He placed his hand at the reader, and it chirped as it opened. I sprung forward, grabbing the door and opened it for them.

“Service with a smile,” one of the women said. “Maybe we should keep that in the next Widow.”

While she was talking, I quickly placed the tape over the door latch. My heart pounded as the tape flexed against the latch, but it held. The door closed behind me, and I gave it a quick push; it opened. The tape had held, and the door was kept from locking.

I did not know how long the tape would hold, but I had my way out.

We passed through two more doors; I held both open, secretly taping the latches open. Finally, we were at the room.

They opened the door, and the Chair waited for me. It was just as I remembered; it was not plastic, but rather made from thick stained wood with simple, rough pads. Thick, heavy leather straps were bolted to the arm rests and legs, to tie my hands and feet down. A crown of cables sat at the high-backed head rest, trailing from the Chair to a bank of computers.

A small wheeled table sat next to it, holding a tray of surgical tools, no doubt for cutting me open to get to any sub-dermal nodes. I dropped the tape, catching it on my foot, and gently kicked it to the corner of the room. No one noticed. Maybe I should have been a football player.

“Please, sit in the Chair,” one scientist said. They still must think I was under the influence of the Treatment and subservient; instead, I was filled with love, and anger that they were trying to take this wonderful feeling from me. The joke would be on them.

I passed by the tray table, and quickly palmed one of the scalpels. I watched them place my rifle and visor on a nearby table.

The scientists strapped me down. One swiped an alcohol swap over my neck, then made deft cuts with another scalpel. It stung, but I bit my tongue. If I was under control of the Treatment, I would not have made a sound. Metallic clicks echoed through my skull as nodes were linked to implants. My arms and legs were bound, and the crown of wires were placed on my head.

“Let’s see what’s going on with our girl,” one of the scientists said. They turned their back to me, and I slid the stolen scalpel out from under my hand.

Computers hummed, and I felt a gentle static wash over my brain. The Chair was working, but it was only reading me. So far, it was not erasing me.

I made sure to carefully flip the scalpel in my hand. I could not drop it; I had one chance. The leather was thick, but the scalpel was sharp. I worked it back and forth, sawing through it as fast as I could.

“Alright, memories are coming up,” the men and women said. They were simple voices, I paid them no mind. “Go back to marker thirteen. That should take us to the firefight a few days ago, right?”

“This isn’t a playback feature, these are memories. We’ll hunt around and see what we can find.”

I was halfway through the first strap. My heart was pounding in my chest.

“Whoa, cut down on the eye-jumps, you’ll give me motion sickness.”

“Better?”

“Loads. Alright, we got a firefight. Nice work.”

“You rummage through her head a few times, you get to know the place pretty well.”

I sawed through the first strap. With my hand free, I went to cut my other hand free.

“Alright, guns out, shots fired—shit, she wasn’t joking about Tracer. How does she not get motion sickness when she does that teleporting thing? Ugh.”

“So far, looks like our Widow is right. Shit, what can we do to boost her anymore? Reaper won’t like it if Tracer keeps getting out of this.”

I had to move faster. The three scientists were reading my mind; they would see what happened when I caught her.

“Alright, moving into a hallway, limit movement, good, good…hey, she got her!”

“What the fuck?”

I cut through the second strap. Both my hands were free; I went for the leg straps.

I could not help myself. I looked up. The scientists were watching me talk to Lena, then lean in to kiss her.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Go, go, go, go…

“What are you seeing?”

“Brainwaves are off the chart, heart racing…shit, this isn’t in the models we programmed.”

“No shit this isn’t in the models! Widow is fucking kissing a girl!”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“This is a model we haven’t expected. This isn’t fear, or hate, it’s _arousal_. We got her to hate her husband, but forgot to block her general fucking arousal.”

Finally, I was free. I pulled the nodes from my head and jumped at the closest scientist, dragging the scalpel across her throat. Blood spilled out in great gouts. 

“It is not the only thing you forgot,” I hissed.

“Alarm! Get to the--!”

Talon made me fast. Faster than normal humans, and aside from being very smart, the scientists were very normal. I threw the dead scientist down, jumped at the second. The scalpel pierced his hand, and I snapped his neck. The third one hesitated; I took the scalpel and stabbed her in the eye. I cut her throat for good measure.

I stood over the dead scientists, their blood pooling at my feet. I had to move. My eyes scanned the room, until they landed on one of the many cameras mounted in the corner of the room. Talon always kept me under lock and key; the only true privacy I had was in the restroom and shower.

“Do not get between l’araignée and her love,” I spat at the camera.

I ran to my rifle and slipped my visor on. I had a minute, maybe two, until someone watching the cameras saw the bodies and watched the footage. I did not know where to go, but I could not stay here.

I cleaned my hands on the scientist’s coats, then I was out the door. I took a deep breath and made myself calm down. I walked tall, shoulder blades touching. I was in charge; at least, that is how I tried to look.

As I walked through the base, other Talon personnel walked past me. They paid me no mind.

One minute had gone by. I had to move faster.

I came to the third door I taped open. I pushed the door open; the tape had held. I pushed the door too hard, and almost knocked over a mousey man.

“Watch it,” he said. I glared at him, and he shrunk away. It did not matter, I was getting closer to freedom.

The second door was seven meters ahead of me. I walked faster, pushing past the odd Talon pencil pusher.

The door opened without any problem.

Mon Dieu, bless whoever created cellophane tape.

The last door was ten meters from me.

Alarms blared, red lights flashed. I looked at my watch; one minute and twenty seconds. Damn.

I ran for the door.

“We are under attack,” I yelled at whoever Talon worker was near me. Hopefully I could distract them, create an uproar to help me slip away, sew some misinformation. “Get to your stations.”

The men and women scattered, running and screaming. Perfect.

The last door opened, and I was in the main office room. An emergency exit was by the side. It would lead to the streets of the Greek city, and to my freedom.

An armed Talon tactical team burst into the room. Reaper led them.

“Merde.”

“I fucking knew you went bad,” he yelled.

I was quicker to the draw than he was, but only barely. My rifle was on full auto; I sprayed wildly, running to the door.

Reaper turned to his strange mist-like wraith form; my bullets passed through him harmlessly. The Talon assault troopers behind him, however, were not so lucky.

Bullets filled the air, men and women screamed. I ducked and ran for the door, throwing myself against it. I could feel the bullets flying around me; pain burned my arm and leg; I was hit. 

But I was out the door.

Gunfire echoed through the tight streets of the Greek village. It was still early morning, and people were going about their day. Men and women looked around, as if confused by the gunfire.

I planted a venom mine at the door and emptied the rest of my clip into the door, just to keep their heads down. I tried to walk away, but all I could do was limp.

My covering fire kept Talon at bay, but it would not last for long. I limped down the street, looking for a knife. Talon had implanted a tracker in my arm; I needed it gone, otherwise all of this would be for nothing.

Reloading as fast as I could, I limped on, then poured more covering fire at the entrance. Fortunately, there was a food stall nearby. Three men was serving fish; seeing my rifle had shocked them, rooted them in place. Luckily, I did not need them, I needed a knife.

I limped over, slapping my rifle on the food cart. I grabbed the knife and quickly wiped it on their shirt to get the fish guts off. I placed my arm on the cart; the tracker was imbedded in my right forearm; I could see the slight surgical scar that was covered by my first tattoo. I had gotten it when I completed my first assignment, when I assassinated Gérard.

The tattoo read “Araignée du soir, Cauchemar,” and the tracker was in the tail of the ‘u.’

I hesitated, but only for a second. The tip sunk into my arm, and I bit my tongue to try not to scream. The men screamed for me. Seeing my gun shocked them into silence, but seeing me cut my arm open was too much for them.

I dug around, trying to hold back tears. I had to do this.

I had to see Lena again.

There was a small explosion from the door. Someone had tripped my mine.

“I hope it hurts,” I spat as I twisted the knife.

Something metallic hit the blade. There. I threw the knife away and reached into my arm. The tracker was only a few centimeters long, but after digging through my arm, it seemed much larger. I threw the tracker away and grabbed a dirty towel from one of the men. It was not clean, but it would have to do to stop the bleeding.

Just as I wrapped my arm up, gunfire made me duck. Reaper was leading the charge to capture me. His shotguns tore up the food stand, hitting one of the men. I screamed as buckshot tore into my left arm. 

I grabbed my rifle with my right hand. My aim with one hand was terrible, but I was able to pepper Reaper at least a little. He faded away as a wraith, but I definitely heard him grunt in pain before.

Running as best I could, I made my way through the tiny village. By now, the gunfire was echoing through the buildings. Men and women were running, children crying, it was all very dramatic.

Blood dripped down both my arms. I cradled by rifle in my useless left arm as I tried to slide another clip in. I could hear boots pounding the ground; Talon was close. All I had to do was get to the water, find a ship, and escape.

Bullets hit the building around me, and I threw myself to the ground, crawling to get around a corner. I tapped my recon visor, and I could see just how close Talon was to catching me.

I could almost hear Lena’s laughter. It kept me going.

There, ahead of me, was an overhang that looked out towards the ocean. My legs refused to cooperate, they only cried in pain. I launched my grappling hook at the side of a building. It nearly tore my arm from its socked, but it pulled me closer and closer to the water.

Reaper’s shotguns roared. I was out of range, too far away to truly hit, but I was still peppered. Shot dug itself into my back and legs.

Screaming, I threw myself over the cliff. Water and boats raced towards me.

I was free.


	23. Along Came a Spider

Lena stared out at the window of the lounge, watching the storm rage against the Straits of Gibraltar. She held a big cup of tea, sipping it as she watched the storm.

“Relaxing?”

Lena looked up. Angela walked up to her. She pointed at an empty chair by her.

“It’s everyone’s lounge, love. Feel free.”

“I always remember you liking to storm watch,” Angela said, sitting down.

“Keeps me mellow. You ain’t a fan?”

“Storms…I never liked them as a girl,” Angela said. “It’s all so big and powerful, it could destroy you in a second. I never knew how you find it peaceful.”

“Part of bein’ British. You get used to storms,” Lena laughed. “The great UK doesn’t have a lot of sunny days, especially with all the climate change an’ whatnot the boffins keep talking about.”

“So you are feeling good then, yes?”

“Ah, I know where this is goin’. The doctor’s making a house call,” Lena said, setting her tea down. She turned to face Angela, absentmindedly fiddling with her chronal accelerator. “What’s this about, love? Seeing how Tracer is holding up with the battle stress?”

“The last few missions…you have been very close to death,” Angela said. “You are always going your own way to find Widowmaker, to try and stop her, but every time, you are getting closer and closer to death. Why do you force yourself to take such dangerous missions?”

Lena smiled.

“I just like playin’ with fire. You know me.”

“This goes beyond playing with fire,” Angela said. “We are all worried; me, Fareeha, Ana, Winston, and you can bet that Jack is beside himself. He’s been trying to keep you grounded.”

“He knows I’m good at holding back Widow,” Lena said. “She barely killed anyone since I started going after her.”

“And how long will that last? Jack saved your life twice now; he might not be there for a third.”

_If only you knew what we were doing,_ Lena thought.

“Look, I like this,” she said. “The playing, the fights, it’s fun. And knowing that no one has to die because of me, that just makes it better. I need this, Angela. It’s almost like I’m getting closer to—“

Klaxons blared and light flashed throughout the base.

“What the—“

“It’s an intruder alarm,” Lena said. “Someone’s comin’ knockin’. Get your caduceus, love, we gotta get ready.”

Lena blinked, teleporting through the base. She ran to her room, stopping to grab her two pistols, then ran to the entryway. Jack and Ana were the first ones to respond, but Zarya was hot on their heels. Lena always wondered how she could move with such a massive cannon.

“What’s the status?” Jack said, slapping a clip into his rifle. “Winston, you on heads?”

_Just got here,_ the scientist said. Winston had built a radio into her chronal accelerator; she was always ready to get into a fight. _Motion detectors and thermal went off; someone’s walking to our gate._

“This isn’t a false-positive?”

_Motion is part of it, but if heat signatures are below a certain point, nothing is tripped. Something out there is warmer than the air, and human-shaped to boot._

“Think the UN finally came to shut us down?” Ana asked.

_If this was the UN, we’d see UN helicopters and boats; there’d be a whole army. This is one person._

Fareeha and Angela arrived next. Fareeha was without her armor, but carried her rocket launcher. Lena looked around; no one was in their proper armor or uniforms. Even Zarya, a stone cold professional, was still in her workout clothes. This was a reaction, not a mission.

“We find out who’s out there, and we hold the line until reinforcements are ready,” Jack said. “This could be Talon looking to settle a score. Stay back, and don’t get killed.”

The doors to the building opened, and they ran into the main courtyard, the cold rain quickly cutting Lena to the bone. Lena could see the spot where Winston had loaded up the satellite that called them back to active duty. Only instead of a satellite on a sled, there was one lone figure.

“Amélie?” She gasped.

Standing in the rain was Widowmaker. She was soaking wet; drenched bandages covered her arms, legs and head. Each bandage was stained red, but she was able to stay upright. Her left arm hung by her side, useless. With her other arm, she held her rifle by the receiver above her head, the universal symbol for ‘don’t shoot me.’

“Drop it!” Jack yelled, bringing his rifle to bear. “On the ground!”

“I—I want to talk to Lena,” Widowmaker mumbled.

“He said drop it,” Fareeha bellowed. She advanced on Widowmaker with Jack. “Get on the ground, or I put you down!”

“Fareeha, hold on,” Lena said.

“’Hold on?’” Fareeha spat. “This bitch thinks she can come here and mess with our heads? Get on the ground!”

“She’s surrendering,” Lena pleaded. She gasped as Widowmaker tried to kneel. It was obvious her legs were cut up; she was barely moving. She stiffly fell to one knee. Lena realized that Widowmaker was staring at her, and her alone.

“I want to talk to you, Lena.”

“Come on, everyone ease up,” she said, holstering her pistols. “She’s surrendering to us.”

“Is this the woman who tried to kill Ms. Amari?” Zarya asked.

“Yes, she is,” Ana said.

“She tries to kill a hero? For what?” Zarya said, anger in her voice.

“Everyone, come on, she’s givin’ up,” Lena said, stepping in front of the advancing Russian. “No need to go pointing guns at her.”

“Lena, what are you saying?” Jack said. “She’s a killer. Stop standing up for her. Winston, is there anyone else here?”

_Not that I’m seeing. Only one person on whatever mission she’s trying to pull._

“Mission? She’s surrendering!”

“Lena is right,” Angela said.

“What?”

Lena was the only one who didn’t yell that. Everyone, Fareeha, Jack, Ana and Zarya, were staring at Angela. The rain plastered her hair to her head, but she held her caduceus tightly.

“Widowmaker is surrendering to us,” Angela said. “And she clearly needs a doctor.”

“I don’t want a doctor,” Widowmaker said. “I want Lena.”

“Lena isn’t a doctor, I am. And you need medical attention.”

“Angela, she tried to kill my mom,” Fareeha yelled. “She took her away from me! You know how much it hurt me, how much I cried. How can you help her?”

“Because I am a doctor, and I swore an oath,” she said. “’I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, _all_ measures which are required.’ It is my oath as a doctor; she is injured, and in need of my help.”

“She’s a killer, Angela,” Ana spat.

“And she is surrendering to us,” Angela shot back. “That does not make her a hostile combatant, it makes her an injured woman. So long as she does not move to hurt us, I have to heal her.”

“Angela, please,” Fareeha begged. “She tried to kill my mother.”

“I know, my love. I know,” she said, “but I cannot simply choose who gets to be healed and who does not. As a doctor, I have to do this.”

Angela walked towards Widowmaker.

“Lena, a hand, please.”

Lena ran over, not bothering to user her blink ability.

“We have to be gentle,” Angela said. “It is clear she’s been shot. I don’t know how bad, but I am assuming it is very bad. Help her to her feet.”

Lena wrapped Widowmaker’s right arm around her shoulders, while Angela took her left. As one, they gently pulled Widowmaker to her feet.

“I traveled so far to see you,” Widowmaker whispered. “So far.”

Angela looked at Lena, but held her peace.

“Jack, you will need to open doors for us,” she said.

“I’m keeping her under a damn close watch, that’s what I’m doing,” he snarled. “She might not be an active combatant, but she is still our enemy. We’re treating her as a potential plant.”

“So long as you don’t get in my way.”

Together, they helped carry Widowmaker into the base. Fereeha was shaking with rage.

“Angela,” she said through clenched lips. “I can never hate you. But I hate what you’re doing.”

“I know.”

“I love you, and I love your conviction. But you have to know what you’re doing is killing me.”

“I do,” she said. “And I am so, so sorry. Come on, Lena. We need to get her to the operating room.”

 

* * *

 

I had to give credit to the doctor, she knew what she was doing.

I sat on the simple operating table, fiddling with the fresh bandages. This ‘Angela’ had balked a little when I refused to be knocked out, but she was good enough to only give me local anesthesia. Then it was to business.

She spent nearly two hours pulling buckshot and bullet fragments from my arms, legs and back. A few had even gotten into my face, which would explain why it had hurt so much to talk.

Dozens of stitches and a healthy dose of the strange caduceus staff of hers, and I was feeling almost perfectly good.

Now that the adrenaline of the past four days had worn off, I was left alone in my mind with Talon’s conditioning.

They never wanted me to run off, so had programmed me to have a massive panic attack at the very thought of turning traitor. Now that I was officially rogue, my heart was hammering wildly in my chest, demanding that I return to Talon.

But I had Lena. She was just outside the operation room. That helped. It helped so much. It made me feel the love that Amélie had for her.

Non, not Amélie’s love. This was _my_ love now, and it filled me with warmth.

“She’s fine for now,” Angela said from the other side of the door. “But during my work, I found…it is scary what Talon did to her. What they changed, what they added.”

If she was talking so close to me, then she did not know that Talon outfitted me with cholera implants to boost my hearing. But she did not need to know that.

“Well, let’s start with the obvious,” Morrison said. I wondered if he knew how much Reaper talked of killing him. “Why is her skin blue?”

“They genetically modified her,” Angela said.  “Her heartbeat never rose above fifty, her temperature never rose above thirty degrees. A slower heartbeat, lower core temperature, it all turned her skin blue.”

“Jesus.” That was Lena, my love. I might be able to hear through the door, but I had no idea who was out there. I could hear feet shifting on the tile floors, so there had to be six at least.

“It must have been beyond painful…”

Angela had no idea.

“…But, as best as I can see with her altered biology, she will make a full recovery. She might have some lingering nerve damage in her left arm, but nothing that should impair her long-term health.”

“That’s great,” Lena said. “Er, I mean, she went through hell gettin’ here. Be a shame to kick the bucket now.”

“Why are you so happy, Lena?” Now it was Grand-mère Ana. I thought I had put her down. Part of me wanted to correct that mistake. “You have been fighting Widowmaker for so long now. You should be furious.”

“I—er, well, I got the feelin’ she’s more Amélie than Widowmaker now,” she stammered.

“What do you mean?” This time it was Grand-mère Ana’s daughter, Fareeha.

“It’s…kinda hard to explain?”

“Try us,” Morrison said. “You’ve been going after her for half a dozen missions. You’ve nearly caught her, and you’ve nearly been caught _by_ her. You’ve seen what she does to her targets. You were there when she assassinated Tekhartha Mondatta at King’s Row. Why stand up to for her?”

“She…she…she still reminds me of Amélie.”

“You should know that Amélie is dead,” Morrison said.

He was right.

“But she’s in there,” Lena said. “Somewhere, maybe only a bit of her. But she’s there, and that’s the woman I fell in love with.”

“So you love the woman they made her into?” Grand-mère Ana said. “Lena, sweetheart, you need to move on.”

“Give me one good reason why I should think she wants to come over to our side,” Morrison said. “Especially after she nearly killed you a few times over.”

Lena mumbled something. Even with my cholera implants, I could not hear her.

“What?”

“She never really tried to kill me,” she mumbled a little louder.

“What do you mean? The last two missions she was practically on top of you.”

Oh, I _was_.

“We…we were snogging…”

My poor little Lena. She must be burning bright red. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“You want to run that by me again?”

“We weren’t tryin’ to kill each other, we were snogging.”

“Snogging?’”

“Yea, ya know, kissing.”

“You went and _kissed_ her?” Morrison raged.

“…she started it.”

I _did_ start it.

“So you break mission protocol to go play ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ with an assassin?!”

Lena must be so embarrassed right now.

“Alright, fine,” Morrison said. “There’s a dozen things wrong with this, but let’s ignore the big one, you are _literally_ fraternizing the enemy, and start from the top: you are ‘snogging’ in a warzone. Who the fuck goes around kissing people in the middle of a firefight?”

I could not see through walls, not without my visor, but there was a _very_ pregnant silence.

“Jack,” Angela said with a smile, “do you _really_ want us to answer that?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“To many people, adrenaline and life-and-death situations are an aphrodisiac,” Angela said. “And Overwatch is very good at attracting those kinds of people.”

“Fareeha? Don’t you tell me you—“

“Sorry, dad…” she mumbled.

Oh, c'est si gentil.

“Goddammit, this is insane,” Morrison said.  “Fareeha, you’re an Overwatch baby. You might not be in the service, but you should know the first things about—Goddammit Zarya, not you too!!”

Zarya? That big, pink haired Russian? Oh, I wish I could see her squirm!

“I—Mei and I just started dating,” she stammered. She must be a lovely shade of pink. I wish I could see her face. “She’s my girlfriend. My first girlfriend. And, and she’s very pretty. Very, very pretty. And sometimes—sometimes she gets this look in her eyes, even in battle, and…”

“You’re a professional soldier! You should know better than this!!”

“S-Sir, this solder recognizes her failings and will be sure to correct them, sir.”

“And the rest of you! Next time we’re out on a mission, you keep it in your damn pants!”

“You are no fun,” Angela pouted.

“Overwatch is a peacekeeping organization, not some dating club! Fucking insane,” Morrison grumbled. “Well, guess what, Lena? With your little tonsil-hockey sessions, you just volunteered.”

“For what?”

“For getting Widow in there to spill her secrets,” he said. “She’s a Talon agent; she knows things. We need to know if she really wants to come over; otherwise, she could be a plant, a double agent. If Talon found out about you and her, they could be using you for her cover.

“Get her to spill the beans; give up bases, plans, intel, anything to prove she wants to come over here; otherwise I’ll be forced to treat her as a spy.”

The humor was sucked from the room; I did not know what Overwatch did to spies, but from the silence, everyone out there knew. Lena would be questioning me. I wanted to tell her things, but Talon’s conditioning was too strong. I did not know what I could help her with.

“Sir,” Lena said. A second later, the door to the operating room opened, and Lena walked in with a massive grin and a bigger swagger.

“Hey there, love! Funny how we keep running into each other.”

“Quite,” I smiled. She did not need to know about my hearing, or that I knew what she was coming for. I stared at her, drinking in all her features and lovely curves.

“You gave us quite the shock, coming over here.”

“I had to see you.”

Lena’s composure slipped. I saw her, for a split second. I could feel the love in me, and I could see the love in her.

“I bet you say that to all the girls who speak up for you,” she laughed.

“Only the British ones.”

Lena looked like she was about to say something, but stopped. I took her hand. It was so soft, too soft for a soldier. I ran it across my face. I missed feeling her close.

“Only the _pretty_ British ones,” I said.

“Amélie, what are you doing here?” She whispered.

“I told you, I am not Amélie. And I am here to see you.”

“But why?”

“Talon found out about us,” I said. “They wanted to erase me, to take this love from me. I could not have that. I would not have it. I had to have this, to have you.”

If only Lena knew how true it was.

“H-how did you get here?” She asked. “Talon wouldn’t have liked you leaving.”

“They did not,” I said. “They tried to kill me. I was able to jump into the ocean, stowaway on a boat. It went to Italy, and a boat there went to Morocco, so I stowed away on that. From there, I stole a car, and made my way here.”

“I know you’re not Amélie, not anymore, but can I still call you that?”

“Non. I am Widow.”

“Widow…they think you’re a spy,” she said.

“I am not.”

“They want you to prove it.”

“How?”

“They need you to give them info on Talon,” she said. I stiffened, the conditioning making me lock up. “Bases, plans, all that good stuff.”

“I…I cannot.”

“Widow, please.”

“Non, you do not understand. Talon made me unable to tell you. My mind, they put blocks in. I cannot talk about it; it hurts too much.”

Lena took my hands and pulled me close. She kissed me, then put her forehead against mine. Her eyes were filled with pain.

“Do you love me?” She asked. “Like how Amélie loved me?”

“I love you _more_ than Amélie loved you,” I said. “She knew someone else, loved someone else. I only love you.”

Lena laughed.

“Amélie always said that in another life, we would be together,” she said. “I didn’t know it would be so literal.”

Then she looked at me. She was hurting.

“They’ll never let us be together if you don’t tell them something.”

Pain hit me. At first, I thought it was Talon’s conditioning, making me clam up, keep their secrets. But it lasted too long, hurt too much, cut too deep.

I could not bear to be from Lena. To have them keep me from her…Talon’s conditioning was not as nearly as painful as the thought of being kept from Lena.

I started talking.


	24. Along Came a Spider

Tree branches were blown about as the helicopter spun around for a landing. It touched the ground in a small clearing between thick woods and an abandon factory. Boots hit the ground as the six men and women of Overwatch jumped out, guns drawn and sweeping the area.

“Clear front,” Jack called.

“Clear right,” Ana said.

“Clear left,” Zarya said.

“Well, I have to say, this is not the kind of reception I was expecting,” Winston said. He was the only one to casually step out of the helicopter.

“At least Talon picked a pretty spot,” Mei said. “I always found Germany’s Black Forest hauntingly beautiful.”

“I think it’s scary,” Fareeha said. “They were able to set up shop in Germany, nearly in Switzerland. We’re only a dozen kilometers from Zurich; that’s Angela’s home town!”

“Talon has to be good at hiding in plain sight,” Jack said, pointing at the building ahead of them. “Just look at it. It looks like an old, rundown factory.”

“Get behind me, I shall cover our entrance,” Zarya said, moving to point.

“Take Mei with you,” Jack said. “And try not to lock any lips, okay?”

“S-sir!”

“Ignore Jack, sweetheart, he’s giving you a hard time,” Ana said.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The building was indeed made from a run-down, abandoned factory. Zarya led the way to the front door, and gave it a heavy kick. The rusted hinges gave way, groaning their protests. Winston was next, sweeping the room with his Tesla cannon.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Widowmaker said there was an entrance to the facility somewhere,” Mei said.

“Think this is it?” Zarya said, pointing to a cabinet. It hung open by the barest inch; she pulled it open, revealing a hidden doorway.

“Sure looks like it,” Jack said. “Let me run point.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t hurt yourself,” Ana said.

The group moved into the doorway. Suddenly, the building wasn’t a rundown factory, but rather a sophisticated base. Cubicles lined some of the walls, with hallways leading to window-lined laboratories.

Everything in the facility was destroyed. Laboratory equipment was smashed, with glass scattered everywhere. Odd papers littered the ground, and destroyed computers were thrown about.

“Sure is smoky in here,” Mei coughed.

Dozens of metal barrels were placed throughout the facility. All were smoldering, spewing smoke and soot into the air.

“Looks like someone left in a hurry,” Fareeha said, walking among the destroyed chaos that was scattered about the facility.

“Smashed computers, burned papers, this is a textbook slash-and-burn op,” Jack said. “Talon is trying to cover their tracks.”

“So…Widowmaker is telling the truth then?” Mei asked.

“She can’t be,” Fareeha growled. “This is just a play.”

“I don’t think it is. Look at the computers,” Winston said. He set his cannon down and shifted through the wreckage. “They pried the hard drives apart, destroyed the platters, broke the memory chips. They don’t want _any_ data to fall into our hands.”

“Shit, looks like she wasn’t blowing smoke up our ass,” Jack said.

“Jack, you cannot be serious,” Ana said. 

“I’m Strike Commander; I have to be objective,” he said. “Look at this. Talon took everything they had, and completely trashed it, all to keep us from getting it. And this is only one base; Widowmaker gave us thirteen locations. Even if Talon destroyed all this data and left nothing for us, this is a huge setback for them. That alone is worth the price of coming over.”

“So you will forgive her, just like that?”

“I never said forgive,” Jack said. “I said she wants to come over to our side.”

“Bullshit she does,” Fareeha said. “This is a play to get close to us.”

“A wise man once said, ‘trust, but verify,’” Jack said. “I sure as hell don’t trust her, but this is all the verification we need.”

“All it takes is to disrupt Talon’s operations, and all is forgiven?” Zarya asked.

“Messing their shit up is a start, but it’s not all,” Jack said. He walked over to a still smoldering barrel. “Back during America’s…let’s just say ‘ill-advised’ War on Drugs, the narcos in the cartels were always on the run from police. Sure, they had their share of informants in the police to give them a head’s up when a bust was heading their way, but there was a saying: ‘to make a clean getaway, the naros had to be lucky every single damn time.’”

He kicked the barrel over, spilling ash over the ground. With his boots, he rummaged around and pulled out pages and pages of only slightly-burnt papers.

“’But to the police who hunted them, they only had to get lucky _once._ ’”

“Talon really did leave in a hurry,” Winston said, ambling over. “They torched everything, but didn’t bother to verify everything was properly destroyed.”

He leafed through the papers. All the papers were burned, but many were still wholly intact and legible. Some were simply singed.

“Anything we can use?” Jack asked.

“This is way too early to tell,” Winston said. “There have to be almost a hundred pages that survived the fires.”

“And that’s just from one barrel,” Mei said. “There have to be dozens here.”

“A hundred pages per barrel, with over a dozen barrels, from thirteen bases,” Jack said. “I’d have to say we got a pretty good change to find _something_ worthwhile in this.”

“Alright, you made your point,” Ana sighed.

“Mom, you can’t be serious.”

“Jack said it best: trust, but verify. It is hard to argue with thousands of pages of documents we could use against Talon. She truly wants to give up on Talon and come to the good side.”

Ana sighed

“I don’t like this any more than you do, Fareeha. But at least Lena will be over the moon.”

 

* * *

 

The door to my ‘cell’ opened, and Lena pranced in. I have never seen her so happy.

“Guess what, love!”

“I can get out of this damn cell?”

“Cell? Come on, this is a hospital room.”

“One which I cannot leave.”

“Look love, you want the news or not?”

“Oui,” I sighed. “Although I would like some real clothes. These hospital gowns do nothing for my figure.”

“Ha! Don’t worry, you’ll get real clothes,” Lena said. “You can even get a real room, and a real job if you want it.”

“Pardon?”

“Jack just sent the word: the first base they raided was empty, but they found a boat load of intel they could use against Talon. They think the other bases are going to be just as helpful.”

My breath caught in my throat. Talon’s conditioning was screaming at me, but I was getting better at ignoring it. I was ignoring it because I had Lena in front of me.

“You mean…?”

“Yup,” she smiled. “They don’t think you’re a spy.”

“So…so that means…?”

Lena took my hands.

“I’ve been wanting this for years,” she breathed. All of our other kisses were nothing like this one. There was no rush, no hesitation, just us.

Although, I did miss the bullets.

“Welcome to Overwatch, love.”

 

* * *

 

Shots rang out as Talon operatives filled the air with lead.

“Gotta try harder than that!” Tracer laughed, popping into and out of existence as she gracefully dodged the shots.

Talon’s agents focused their fire, forcing her to cover.

“Hey, boss man, that’s your queue.”

Talon soldiers were cut down by Soldier:76’s gunfire. Rocket blasts rained from the sky as Pharah floated on her jet packs, Mercy hovering behind her.

“How we doing?” Soldier:76 said, sliding into cover by Tracer.

_Ariel superiority has been achieved,_ Pharah said on the radio.

_Such a shame,_ Mercy sighed. _I want to use my ultimate, but no one has died yet..._

_And you called_ me _the scary one,_ Widowmaker sighed.

_You are plenty scary,_ Ana said. A shot echoed, and a Talon mercenary fell. _When you are focused. My nanoboost is ready; who needs a shot?_

“Let’s get ready for a push,” Soldier:76 said. “Form up on me.”

_Oh,_ I _see,_ Widowmaker said. _Whenever g_ _rand-mère_ _shoots someone, everyone says ‘merci.’ But when_ I _shoot someone, all anyone says is ‘Widowmaker, non! Widowmaker, what are you doing? Widowmaker, we needed that man alive!’_

“We _did_ need that Talon soldier alive,” Soldier:76 growled.

_Plaire, he would not have been taken alive. He was pulling the pin on a grenade; Talon conditions their soldiers well._

“Just as well as you?”

_Talon soldiers do not have a beautiful woman to draw them away. I did you all a favor by killing that man._

Solder:76 gave Tracer a hard look.

“S-she’s gettin’ better,” she stammered. “I swear.”

“If this is ‘better,’ I don’t want to know what was ‘worse.’”

_You know I can still hear you, oui?_

“That’s the point, Widow. Is everyone in position?”

_Affirmative,_ Pharah said. _Barrage is ready. Say the word, and I’ll keep their heads down._

“Ana, boost me once Pharah pops her barrage. Pharah, you force them to cover, and I’ll flush ‘em out. Tracer, do what you do best: harass.”

“Ten steps ahead of ya!”

“Widow, if there are any more grenades that are about to be pulled—“

_I shall take them out._

“—Or you could tell me about it.”

_Spoilsport._

“Everyone ready?”

_Getting into position,_ Pharah said. _Give me a few._

_Right beside you,_ Mercy said.

Tracer looked behind her, to the tower where Widow was stationed. She changed the frequency her radio was on, switching to Widow’s private radio channel.

“How you like bein’ on our side, love?” She asked.

_I do not care about ‘sides,’_ Widow said. _But I do like being with you, for once. You are easier to kiss now._

“Not as fun, though.”

_We can make it fun, ma chérie._

“Now you’re just usin’ that scope to check me out, aren’t you?”

_Mmmm…_

_In position,_ Pharah said. _Justice incoming!_

“Move!” Soldier yelled.

Tracer vaulted from cover as everyone jumped into action. Amélie had said they could be together in another life.

And she was liking this life.


	25. In The Morning

“Fareeha, you have to relax.”

We were standing outside of the cafeteria, and Fareeha was fidgeting with her present. She was beyond nervous, and I had to help her.

“Mom, I know,” Fareeha huffed, “but I have one shot to get this right.”

“Fareeha.” I took her hand and held it. “You will be  fine. You always do; you are my daughter, after all.”

Fareeha smiled, but I could see the tension in her face. We have been practicing for hours, every day, for months. She wanted this to be perfect, and everything _was_ perfect. It was her nerves that kept her from being sure of herself.

“What is it that I always told you?” I asked.

“’That you can practice all you want, but when the time comes to perform, you have to shut up and do it.’”

“That’s exactly right,” I smiled. “Take it from an old woman; this is something you just have to do.”

“Allah, this reminds me of what dad told me,” she said.

I always wanted Jack to be her new father, but I was a blind old lady. I never made anything official, certainly not by asking him let alone having him sign any legal paperwork; I was always too busy with building Overwatch, or going on missions. But I never got tired of hearing her call Jack ‘dad.’ It rekindled hope that she would have a father, no matter how late it was.

“What did he tell you?” I asked.

“It…it was after we thought you…we were holding your memorial service.”

My face fell and I burned from shame. When that damned Widow nearly killed me, it forced me to abandoned Fareeha to protect her from Talon’s grasp; if they thought me dead, they would leave Fareeha alone. I wanted Jack would take care of her; I knew he would, but abandoning Fareeha something that I would never forgive myself for doing, no matter how well-intentioned it was.

“He said that I couldn’t keep things bottled up in me,” she said. “I have to let things out, to express myself.”

“Then I picked a wise father for you,” I said, trying to smile.

“I think we _both_ picked him, mom,” Fareeha laughed.

“That’s because us Amari women are the wisest women on the planet,” I said. This time, I was able to smile.

“I-I’ll meet you in there,” Fareeha said. “I…just need a minute.”

“Don’t keep us waiting.”

I left Fareeha to herself and walked into the cafeteria. The men and women of Overwatch were eating and socializing. It took me back to a good time, but I couldn’t truly let myself slip into memory. Back then, I had two eyes. Now I only had one.

I tried my best not glare at Widow. She had forsaken Talon, turned on them, helped us fight them, but more importantly, she was hopelessly head-over-heels in love with Lena. Even now they ate side by side, nearly impossible to separate, but it couldn’t stop the old hate in my gut from boiling. My right eye might be dead and gone, but it could still see one person, and that person was Widow.

Getting a tray of food, I sat down next to Jack. The Russian, Zarya, ate with us. She even let Zenyatta sit a few spots away from her; she was doing a much better job hiding her hate. She might be on good behavior because of Mei who sat next to her, but improvement was improvement. Zarya seemed so much more relaxed and at ease with Mei. Maybe having a girlfriend was all that she needed.

And, of course, our target sat with us. Angela looked as heavenly as she always did.

“Bonjour, _grand-mère_ _,_ ” Widow said.

“Good morning, _killer_ ,” I smiled back.

“Come on now, I thought we would all get better at this,” Lena groaned.

“It is fine, ma chérie. Grand-mère and I like this little exchange.”

“Hopefully it won’t require me to patch any bullet holes,” Angela sighed.

“I agree,” Zenyatta said. “It is important to strive for peace wherever it is possible.”

“If I hear any more hair pulling, you’ll both take your meals elsewhere,” Jack said. He gave an apologetic look to me. “Sorry. Strike Commanders can’t play favorites.”

“It is fine,” I said.

“Ana, is Fareeha here?” Angela asked. She seemed nervous; she fiddled with some kind of small box in her pocket. “Normally she is here by now.”

“Speak of the devil, doctor, and she shall appear,” Zarya said, nodding towards the door. Sure enough, Fareeha was walking towards the table, a nervous smiled barely hidden.

I smiled at her. She was ready; I knew she was.

“Guten Morgen,” she said.

That got Angela to pause.

“You speak German now?” She asked, pulling her hand out from her pocket. I could have sworn I saw something in her hand. Whatever it was, she kept it hidden.

“Trying to,” Fareeha said, sitting across from her. “German is your first language, right? I thought I should try to learn it.”

“You are learning German because of me?” Angela smiled. I could see why Fareeha was so taken with her. Her smile could light up an entire room. “Fareeha, that is great, but German is a difficult language. You’ll have to practice with me.”

“Thank you,” Fareeha smiled. “I do know a little more.”

“Well, show me what you know.”

“Wie spät ist es?”

Mei leaned over, whispering so she wouldn’t interrupt Fareeha.

“Do you speak German?” She whispered to Jack. “I don’t know what they’re saying.”

“Please, let me translate,” Zenyatta said. “I have studied many languages in my travels; German is but one.”

“Wo befindet sich die Bibliothek?”

_Where is the library,_ Zenyatta quietly translated.

“Ah, the old standby learner phrases,” Angela laughed. “What else have you learned?”

“Ich liebe dich.”

_I love you._

I couldn’t help but smile as Angela paused at that. I hid my grin behind my tea. Of course, Fareeha had internationally mispronounced it. ‘Ich’ became ‘itch,’ ‘liebe’ was ‘lie-beg,’ and ‘dich’ became ‘ditch.’

“C-could you say that again?” Angela asked, a blush slowly raising to her cheeks. “Your pronunciation was a little off.”

“Ich liebe dich.”

_I love you._

“You need to work on your pronunciation.” Now Angela was truly blushing. “It is ‘Ich,’ not ‘I-tch.’ O-once more, please?”

“Ich werde es so oft sagen, wie Sie es hören möchten,” Fareeha said flawlessly.

_I will say it as many times as you want to hear it._

Angela had taught me German years ago, and I taught Fareeha everything that I knew. Neither of us were truly fluent, but it was still good, conversational German. And judging from Angela’s shocked look, she understood every word.

“Ich werde euch jede Stunde des Tages sagen, weil ihr mein Alles seid. Du bist mein Engel vom Himmel, und ich will dich niemals verlassen.”

_I will tell you every hour of every day, because you are my everything. You are my angel from Heaven, and I never, ever want to leave your side._

Zenyatta was doing an excellent job translating without interrupting Fareeha. Jack, Lena, and even Widow were staring at them, and Zarya had her hands covering her mouth, beyond shocked. It looked like she was crying.

“Ich möchte, dass du das letzte ist, was ich sehe, wenn ich schlafe, also weiß ich, dass ich, wenn ich schlafe, mit der Sonne gesegnet werde. Ich kann nicht ohne dich leben, und ich will nicht.”

_I want you to be the last thing I see when I go to sleep, so I know that when I sleep I’ll be blessed with the sun. I cannot live without you, and I don’t want to._

Just as we practiced, she pulled out the little box from her pocket, and opened it. The ring she spent so long agonizing over caught the light, reflecting beautifully. It was made from thin, delicate white gold. It held a diamond that caught the light, creating a rainbow of colors.

“Bitte, mach die glücklichste Frau auf Erden und sei meine Frau,” she said, her face flush.

_Please, make the happiest woman on Earth, and be my wife._

Angela stared at the ring, obviously caught off-guard.

“So that’s what you were working on with Fareeha,” Jack whispered.

“Were we that obvious?” I asked.

“No, quite the opposite,” he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just that I was working with Angela on the same thing.”

“What?”

“Remember when you taught me Arabic all those years ago?” He said. “I brushed up on it to help Angela.”

“لم يكن من المفترض أن تكون واحدة للبكاء,” Angela said.

_I wasn’t supposed to be the one to cry._

Both Fareeha and I stared at Angela as she spoke Arabic. Zenyatta continued to flawlessly translate.

“يا عزيزي فريحة، مجرد رؤيتكم يجعلني سعيدا. يجري معك هو الفرح، وتقاسم الحياة مع معكما الحب والسعادة.”

_My dear Fareeha, just seeing you makes me happy. Being with you is a joy, and sharing a life with you fills me with love and happiness._

She reached into her pocket, and pulled out her own small little box. It was the strange thing she was playing with when I first walked in. From the box, she pulled out her own ring. It was a blend of blue and gold, the color of Fareeha’s armor.

“لقد طلبت بالفعل والدك لإذنه لاتخاذ يدك في الزواج.”

_I have already asked your father for his permission to take your hand in marriage._

Fareeha stared at Jack. I was just as shocked.

“سيكون لي الخاتم، ولكن فقط إذا كنت تأخذ الألغام.”

_I will take your ring, but only if you take mine._

Fareeha was still staring at Jack. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Dad?” She stammered. “S-She asked you…?”

Jack nodded, a smile reaching from ear to ear.

Angela and Fareeha weren’t the only ones who were crying. Widow was trying to remain stoic, but she dabbed her eyes with a napkin. And poor Zarya was utterly besides herself, heaving and sobbing almost uncontrollably.

“I…I never thought I’d see a day like this,” she stammered between sobs. Mei had an arm wrapped around her; she handed Zarya a napkin, and she blew her nose into it.

“To see a gay proposal?” Mei asked. Her grin was as big as Angela’s.

“Yes!”

“Aw, for the love of God kid, don’t leave her hanging there and take the damn ring,” Jack yelled.

Fareeha reached over to take her ring, but Angela grabbed her hand and pulled her across the table to kiss her.

“Way to go!” Lena yelled. “About damn time, you two!”

A cheer went up behind me. I was so caught up with Angela’s proposal that I forgot we were in the middle of a cafeteria. Everyone was cheering and clapping, happy for my girl and her love.

Both Angela and Fareeha were smiling uncontrollably as they broke their kiss. They took their rings, and everyone seemed to cheer louder and louder as they slipped them on.

“We need to find a priest,” Angela laughed. “My God, I’ve waited for this day since I was a girl.”

“If I may,” Zenyatta said, “I am officiated to preside over marriages.”

“You are?”

“I was a monk of the Shambali temple,” he said, “a religious organization recognized by the UN. I may no longer be part of them, but they have yet to truly disavow me. Therefore, I still act on behalf of the temple, and with the power given to the temple by the UN, I may legally marry willing couples.”

“Zen, we couldn’t think of anyone we’d like more to marry us,” Fareeha said.

“Then we shall need to plan the ceremony.”

“Before that,” Angela said, “I want you to kiss me on the bluffs of Gibraltar.”

Angela was up and pulling at Fareeha’s hand, dragging her from the table. The cheering continued as they left to profess their love for each other.

“Angela got your permission,” I laughed, leaning against Jack. Zarya wasn’t the only one who was crying. “This is truly a great day.”

“Hmm.”

A simple ‘hmm?’ I looked at Jack.

“What’s with that serious look?”

“You think it’s strange that our daughter is getting married before we are?” He asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crappy translations are unintentional. As a dumb (read: monolingual) American, I rely on Google Translate.


End file.
